Dream catcher
by leftarrow
Summary: Draco is reliving his parents' torture in his dreams. He gets a dream catcher to lock the nightmares up. Could a pained, but curious, Harry steal it and discover the Draco he never thought could exist? Rated M for language, rape, cutting, and some slash.
1. Escaping

Chapter 1: Escaping

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything…the almighty J.K. Rowling does. She owns EVERYTHING…

_Flashback_

"_Son, toughen up! Malfoy's do not fail and most certainly do not cry!" _

"_Please, Father, I'll do better! Please, just don't!"_

"_Despicable…a Malfoy…begging…Crucio!"_

_End of Flashback_

Draco still remembered the intense pain in his muscles the first time his father punished him. _"It's all for your own good, son. You'll thank me, and so will the Dark Lord."_ Humph. Dark Lord. No matter what he went through, he would rather kill himself than become a Death Eater. And at this rate, he just might kill himself anyway. He could not wait much longer for the magical dream catcher that would lock up those nightmares. He had been expecting it last night, but the owl that was supposed to send it to him had fallen sick. There were no substitute owls, so he had to wait. Damn owls.

Here he sat in his dorm room at Hogwarts, at the beginning of his last year here. He had placed silencing and locking charms on the curtains, because he knew he screamed in his sleep, and he did not want anyone coming to treat him like bloody Potter. He was sweaty from his nightmare, and his steel knife, Drakstile, was his only relief. She was always there when he needed to escape from this living hell. He pressed it down, gently but firmly, onto his bicep, sighing contently as the crimson blood ran freely down his arm, onto his bed. His blood had already stained his sheets permanently, and it was only the first night of the school year.

Potter was probably sleeping contently in his warm Gryffindor Tower, after a day of braveness, popularity, and all that shit. _He _had had a lame day. Pansy had been all over him, and Blaise was opinionated with nonsense his father was engraving into his mind. Draco knew Blaise would become a Death Eater, no doubt. He, and every other Slytherin, had received hateful glares from all the Gryffindors. Except, much to his surprise, the Golden Trio. Weasel and Granger had been acting all lovey-dovey, so they were too busy snogging each other to hate him. Potter, on the other hand, had seemed distant all day, even during Potions, where he had turned his hair purple and got a lecture from Snape in front of the class. He had caught Har-Potter _wat was that? Was I really just about to call him _Harry glancing at him. They were not angry looks, Potter just seemed to be _looking _at him. Draco still did not know what to think of this.

He was reliving his life—starting with age seven. What a horrible year. He had been in a race with his peers, and had been feeling nauseas, therefore losing the race. His father had bet on him, and when he lost…he did not want to remember his nightmare (**A/N: **That is the flashback you saw at the beginning of the chapter). Each night he relived each punishment his dad gave him—and there were plenty of those. His father had continued to beat him at home until fifth year, until when Lucius was caught beating him in a restaurant in Diagon Alley. They took him away, and Draco bitterly recalled how happy he had been, to be just with his mother. He had not even thought of, at that time, why his mother had never stopped Lucius from performing the Unforgivables on him.

A single tear escaped his eye, and was brushed away by, what Draco thought, the dull end of the knife. Instead, he felt the familiar, but pleasurable pain, only this time it was right by his nose.

"Shit!" He whispered into the air. He couldn't have anyone knowing what he did to himself, and he was not sure if the charm that covered up his other wounds would last. If anyone knew, it would ruin his image, he would never get any respect, and worst, he would get pity. That was the last thing he wanted. Comfort, possibly. Pity, absolutely not.

_I'll just…wear a band-aid and say that I have a zit. If anyone makes fun of me, I will tell them that mature wizards get them, and whoever it is must be immature. I may be weak, but I will not be made fun of. My life is difficult enough as it is._

He slid the knife back into its drawer and locked it in. A look at the clock informed him that it was 1:34 am. _I have to sleep. If I don't, they'll get worried, then nosy. Can't have that. They might find out about everything. I don't need their pity!_

He lay down on his silk bed. He had ordered it specially, and had had some house-elves move it in before Hogwarts started. It had been 3,000 on his mother's credit card. His body tensed up with the thought of his mother. The happiness he had felt when Child Welfare took his dad away had been diminished soon after coming back to the Malfoy Manor after his school vacation.

_Flashback_

"_Draco, honey, you should take a bath. You're filthy." Narcissa said in her singsong voice. _

"_Okay, mom." He turned away his mother and shouted to a passing house-elf," Hey, you! Get the water going in the bath on the second floor!"_

"_Oh no, sweetie. I will get that." Narcissa replied anxiously._

I wonder why she looked so anxious_…Draco thought_.

"_Mother, I'm fifteen!"_

"_And I am your mother! I like to act like it sometimes!"_

Funny. She never thought that before…_Draco thought, getting uneasy._

"_Is there something wrong with the faucet? The house-elves will get it, not you."_

"_No, no, dear. Just come with me and get ready."_

"_Fine." Draco slinked up the staircase, admiring the grand designs of snakes, his mother following closely behind him._

_Once in the bathroom, Narcissa sauntered over to the tub, turned the faucet on, and watched as the tub began to fill, slowly. She seemed hypnotized. _

_Breaking out of her trance, she ordered Draco to get ready for his bath—undress._

_End of Flashback_

Draco shuddered at that thought, that he could have ever been so naïve. Looking at his pale, exhausted reflection in his mirror, he felt a wave of tears come on. Determined not to cry, he forced himself to go back to remembering, though he was not even sure of how that helped.

_Flashback_

"_Undress? In front of you?" Draco Malfoy was very uncomfortable with his body, especially since he had been mutilating himself. _

"_Please. I am your mother! If you need help…" She stalked over to him. His face paled when he saw something in her eyes…lust._

_He was, unfortunately for himself, immobilized because of his shock of what was happening. Narcissa took advantage of this, and began to slip his shirt off, sucking his neck once it was off, mumbling about how she never got any action from Lucius._

_Finally, Draco came out of shock, and pushed his mother off him. With a shocked expression on his face, and a hickey on his neck, he started towards the door._

"_Oh no you don't. I have not had any pleasure in a year. I know just as many curses as your father. You do not want to? Too bad." With that, an army of house-elves charged into the room, obviously on her cue. Some of them turned off the water, then they tackled him, and though he fought back, there were too many of them. They pinned him to the wall, and immediately ten more house-elves came in and put shackles on his ankles, wrists, and around his waist. _

"_Mother! No!" Even as he said this, he knew it would not work. He was going to be…no. He could not give in to being raped. He would fight. He was not sure how he would, but his mom was a clever bitch, and he did not have much time if he wanted to get away with his virginity._

_End of Flashback_

Draco paused, thinking that even after what had happened to him, he had still had hope, even when his mother had been swiftly advancing on him. _I don't have that hope anymore. I only live to make sure I get revenge._

_Flashback_

_Since his shirt was already off, his mother was eying him, probably wondering why he had butchered his torso. If she had wondered, she completely gave up on figuring it out, because as soon as the house-elves left the room, she had her pasty lips on his, ruining any thoughts he had had of escape. He did his best to keep his lips tightly shut, but she kept pushing her tongue in-between his lips. Eventually, she pressed her tongue in. Then, she swirled her tongue around his inside cheek. If this were anyone else, he would have been delighted as she swept her tongue across his. However, it made him sick._

"Disgusting! She tastes like she just ate a bowl of salt!" _Draco thought, fighting back nausea._

_She plucked her lips away from his, and he gave a revolted snort. She slapped him—hard. _

"_Ow!"_

"_Please me willingly, and the shackles go." He thought about this. Would it be worse to sleep with my mother, or to be raped?_

"_No. Way."_

"_Your decision." _Yes, it was mine. I would rather tell people that I lost my virginity to my mother because she is a rapist than to tell them that I slept with her.

_She pounced on him, which is unbelievable, considering that Draco was chained to the wall standing up._

"_Give me a hickey," his mother commanded, roughly jamming his head into the crook of her neck. _

_Draco pulled away, appalled, then scoffed, "You expect me to do that willingly?"_

"_Fine," she growled harshly, hopping off him._

_She ripped his pants and boxers off in one pull, her frown increasing when she saw that he was not the least bit aroused. He felt very vulnerable, and was on uneasy when he thought of what was sure to come. _

"_I will change that," Narcissa stated, more to herself, convincing herself that she would make him grow hard. _Fat chance, _Draco thought sourly._

_She "seductively" slipped out of her skirt, leaving her in blue, lacy panties. A thong, Draco noticed. With horror, he realized she must have been planning this. _

_She unbuttoned her blouse, never taking her eyes off him, trying to look seductive. She looked below his waistline from time to time, seeing if he was hard. No such luck. _

_She took some scissors, which he had not noticed earlier, and cut her panties down the middle. He could feel vomit in the back of his throat when he saw her bush. She proceeded to unclasp her bra, then, spreading out her legs slightly, she rubbed it back and forth between her legs. _

_If that did anything, it made him even less hard. _

_She apparently gave up trying to make him hard, and just strolled over to him. The wall he was shackled to began to become more horizontal, until he was almost lying down. She picked up his…thing…and aligned herself so that when she laid down on him, he was in her. It was the most unpleasant thing Draco had ever gone through; he would give anything to be under Crucio right now._

"_Finally!" she moaned._

_She continued by doing a push-up, and then dropping herself onto Draco, so that he pushed into her hard. _That freaking bitch likes it_, Draco thought_.

_She pushed out of him, and grasped his limp cock, her inch-long nails causing him to shriek out in pain. Upset that he was not aroused she kicked him in the stomach and stormed out of the room, ordering two house-elves to unshackle him._

_End of Flashback_

Draco let the tears flow freely as he remembered crawling to his room and locking the door. He sobbed even harder when he thought of how his mother had done that many times, and he could never manage to fight back—not because he didn't want to, but because he had been getting weaker due to hisblood loss (But cutting feels so good!). Not to mention, he hardly ever ate anymore.

He glanced at the clock—2:09. _I have to sleep—no one can get suspicious._

He pulled out Drakstile, her steel glinting elegantly in the moonlight. He twiddled her in his hands, scraping his fingers with her blade. He was tempted to cuddle next to her, like a stuffed animal, but thought the better of it, and put her away. He put a cleaning charm on his bed sheets, but there was still a hint of crimson in certain spots on his bed. It looked odd, like there should be crimson tint all over the sheet. _I can do that…_

For lack of a Dreamless Sleep Potion, he settled on curling into a fetal position under his blanket, thinking of Draktile, and how she would soon help him escape from his nightmare of a life. Didn't work…he relived the metal spikes on his father's belt grinding into his back.

A/N: I'm not really sure where this is going, but I have some ideas. Please review! btw, flames are useless if all you say is: "I hate your story!". Please, make 'em useful!


	2. Left Alone

Chapter 2:Left Alone

**A/N: **Sorry about how long it took for me to get this chapter up…but there was a friend's death, I have to go shopping and make preparations for my sister's and mine B'not Mitzvah, and I SERIOUSLY needed a shopping spree. I had like, one pair of pants I liked. Sorry about the lame excuses, but I don't really want to find myself decapitated by angry readers.

**Disclaimer**: J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am basking in her glory when I write about her characters.

_Thoughts are italic. _

**xxxevilxxx: **Yeah, the credit card, and the Child Welfare (look at the review under yours)… I will try to make it seem more magical.

**darkmoon-on-dragonwings:** Thanks for the review, hope you are not too disappointed that this chapter is partly in Harry's POV. I know I should have used some sort of equivalent, something like Wizard Welfare, or something that doctored up FBI, but things along those lines are only popping into my head _now._

**Sarkywoman:** You and I think alike!

Two weeks into school:

Harry POV:

_What it must be like to be them._ I watched as my two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, strolled down the passageway that led to the Great Hall where lunch was being served, hand in hand, oblivious to their classmates, teachers, and friends. _Leaving me, like everyone else. _My seventh year was turning out to be, well, shit. Ever since the beginning of sixth year, after everyone knew what I had done and how my godfather ended up dead, people had been ignoring me, avoiding me altogether. It was as if Neville had suddenly become the Savior, not me.

_I wish._ "No! I would not wish that on anyone. Not even Malfoy…" I whispered loudly, receiving some looks that clearly said, "I think that you're off your rocker. Freak."

"Talking about me, Potter?" Draco Malfoy sneered. I was shocked, at first. The Malfoys always seemed to be popping out of nowhere.

"Leave alkasdjf me ladk the fuck aljfkdf alone." I grumbled incomprehensibly. I started to walk away, but a firm grip on my bicep pulled me back, nearly tripping me. "Watch it!" I shouted.

"This is not over." Draco hissed, glancing pointedly at Professor Trelawney, who was striding down the hall. I simply shrugged—I didn't have time for his petty fights. I had bigger fish to fry. My life was (is) going down the drain. It was hard to keep up the happy, careless image everyone expected when what I truly wanted to do was to crawl under my covers with my knife, Askalade, and wish for Sirius.

"This is not over." Draco repeated. I gave him a cold glare, and stalked off toward the Great Hall, thankful that he did not try to stop me, because I might have fallen down. I was getting weak, in body and mind.

Lunch was a buffet fit for a king. There were hundreds of plates on the massive tables by the time I slipped into the room, unnoticed. I stared at my plate, which I had lazily added a sandwich to. However, peanut-butter-and-jelly made me feel sick, so I took an apple and a knife and started to peel it. I took the peelings and slowly nibbled at them.

I looked up from my plate, to where Hermione and Ron were feeding each other pieces of a banana. I sighed quietly, wishing that I could have that special someone that everyone else seemed to have found.

"Bye, guys. I'll talk to you later." I mumbled. The lovesick duo stopped what they were doing, and said their farewells, which were simply, "Bye…Harry." as if they forgot my name. They stared at me, not saying anything else, and when I stood up to leave, they instantly went back to their previous engagement.

The next class was Herbology, and lucky for me, it was Advanced Mandrake Lessons with the Slytherins. It was probably going to be the same lessons, only more homework. I wouldn't be surprised if Hermione had to accompany Neville to the Hospital Wing.

There was still another half-an-hour until classes began again, so I strolled casually down to the lake. It was a windy day, so the lake had graceful ripples.

I sat down next to a boulder to my left that was three times my size. I lied down, and gazed up at the sky, which was full of clouds. I was somewhat relaxed when I saw the varying shapes of the clouds. It was as if it took me away from the life that I live, that I hate, and put me up there with the clouds. I had no more worries, and it would have stayed that way if an arch-nemesis with a Prefect Badge had not disturbed me.

"Potter, move. Go to class." Draco said, and as he sat down two yards away, next to another boulder, it defeated the purpose of telling me to go to class. He didn't seem angry, not even irritated. It was more that he was tired, and needed to relax. _Just like me. And if I don't give a damn that he's here, then he won't mind sharing the space either._ As I predicted, Draco did not say another word, just sat, staring at the depths of the lake.

A look at my watch informed me that there was still fifteen minutes until class. I pulled out a bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, remembering that I had barely had any lunch, and though I was not hungry, Dumbledore would certainly get nosy if he saw that I was too weak. _He hasn't noticed yet,_ I thought distractedly. My Gryffindor-ness was telling me that I should offer Malfoy some of my Beans.

"Hey Malfoy, you want some?" I shouted to him. He looked at me uncertainly, as if deciding whether he thought that I had contaminated them. "I didn't hex them. Look, I will eat one." I put one into my mouth, thankful that it was grass-flavored. I could handle that. I would have spit it out if it had been vomit-flavored—I had been getting too much of that taste in my mouth lately.

"Sure." he responded. At least that's what it sounded like; a flock of gulls screeching their lungs out had muffled his voice.

He stood up, and at that moment, it seemed like he was going to say thank you, but that would not have been appropriate for a Slytherin to say to a Gryffindor.

Draco sat down right next to meon his right, and after a moment's hesitation, he reached his hand out. I placed a bean in his hand that I knew, from experience, was grape-flavored. _Why am I being so nice to the person who has been my tormentor for the last six years? Doesn't matter, I suppose. Nothing does._

He closed his eyes and popped it into his mouth with them still closed, as if preparing himself for the vomit flavor he was sure to taste. However, once he had it in his mouth, he opened his eyes and put on a sincere smile. "Grape is my favorite!" he exclaimed.

"Cool."

We sat there for another few minutes, not saying anything. I occasionally passed him a bean, or sometimes he asked for one. Once, I handed him a vomit one, just because I wanted to stir up some trouble once he had begun to relax. He took it confidently, and then his face contorted into a grimace once he tasted it.

I laughed heartily, an act I had not participated in since Sirius' death. Thinking of him, I immediately sobered, and Draco seemed concerned. For reasons unknown to me, he started a conversation.

"So, excited about the Quidditch season?" he asked.

I was baffled. Draco Malfoy, King of Slytherin, was making small talk with the Boy-who-lived. _Very _interesting.

"Um…I suppose. I haven't been following it lately because…" I trailed off. I was _not_ about to tell my worst enemy that I had been moping in self-hatred and misery ever since I had gotten back to the Dursleys and had not bothered to owl Ron with questions of how the Chasers were doing.

"Okay…So are you still going to be on the Hogwarts team this year?" he questioned.

"I don't know. I guess I will. Can't have the Slytherins beating us, and only I can keep you buffoons in place." I joked.

"Ha. Anyone could replace you, like that little Weasel girl."

"M-hmm." I was distracted. Draco's two bodyguards were rounding the corner and coming towards us quickly. They could not see us because of the boulder, but I could easily see them from my point of view. "Your goons are coming, I better go." This would be the first time **_I_** had left someone.

Draco craned his neck and obviously saw them, for he nodded. I stood up, and began my walk back to the castle, keeping under the protection of the boulder. When I was two yards away, I heard Draco whisper, "Thank you." He must not have meant for me to hear it, or he would have said it louder. Pretending not to notice, I continued my journey back to the Gryffindor Tower to gather my materials for Herbology.

Draco POV (when he first sees Harry by the lake):

_Oh, damn-it. I don't want to deal with him now. Why is he always in my way when all I want to do is relax?_ I thought, and then reminded myself that I was a Prefect. _I can _make _him move._

I moved silently up to him, then said, "Potter, move. Go to class." It probably sounded weak and tired, but that's how I felt! Truthfully, he did not look too surprised. In fact, I started to wonder whether he had heard me. _Well, fine with me. Just so long as he does not start to bitch with me._ So, I sat down about two yards from him, next to an enormous rock. I stared into the lake, watching the subtle ripples come closer to the shore, then disappear, only to be replaced by other ones. It was quite hypnotizing, and I was very content. But then… "Hey Malfoy, you want some?"

That dimwit offered me a bean. How dumb did he think I was? He had probably hexed them to taste like vomit and then have them _make you_ vomit. Nevertheless…I was sort of hungry, and what if he hadn't contaminated them? There were some good flavors in them…

My fears were diminished when he proceeded to eat one. He did not start vomiting, and he would not have eaten them himself if he had hexed them. "Sure," I responded. I strolled over to him, and sat down next to him. I hesitantly put out my hand; I still had my doubts—what if he knew what colors meant what, and was going to give me a vomit-flavored one? I closed my eyes, and stuck it into my mouth, readying myself for nausea. Instead, I tasted grape—my absolute favorite flavor! "Grape is my favorite!" I said happily.

"Cool." _What kind of response was that?_

Well, we sat there for some time, mostly silent, except when he offered me a bean, or when I asked for one.

Unfortunately, he _must_ have known what flavors the colors represented.

I stuck my hand out, hoping for another grape, and then put the bean in my mouth. What greeted me was most certainly not grape. The vomit flavor I had dreaded was now filling my mouth. I scrunched my face up in a most unflattering way, just to show him my disgust.

He roared with laughter, and I was about to join him, when his face darkened. I was curious, but for some odd reason, concerned. At that moment, I felt that it was my duty, as a Malfoy, to make a conversation.

"So…are you excited about the Quidditch season?" I asked timidly.

"Um…I suppose. I haven't been following it lately because…" he stopped. I was growing more interested by the moment. Why had he not been following it? What had happened?

Not wanting to seem too nosy, I changed the subject slightly. Quidditch was a fairly safe subject. "Okay…are you still going to be on the Hogwarts team?" I silently hoped not, because if he was quitting, the Slytherins had a much better chance of winning the House Cup.

"I don't know. I guess I will. Can't have the Slytherins beating us, and only I can keep you buffoons in place." He kidded.

"Ha. Anyone could replace you, like that little Weasel girl." I countered.

"M-hmm." _Huh? I just insulted you, and all you have to say is "M-hmm."? You agree?_

"Your goons are coming, I better go."_ That explains it. Crabbe and Goyle are like fat shadows._ I nodded, and he stood up, and started walking away. I was somewhat disappointed; I had been having a fun time. _With my worst enemy?_

"Thank you." I whispered. I did not really want him to hear it, I was just grateful to joke around with someone who was not totally absorbed with idiocy. All of the Slytherins were concerned with were winning the House Cup and how lame Gryffindors, muggles, and mudbloods were. It gets _very_ boring. I honestly do not know how they stand each other.

He faltered for a moment, and I was worried that he had heard and would tease me, but instead he continued to walk away.

By the time he was out of view, Crabbe and Goyle had arrived. "Hey Draco, where were you at lunch? You left your plate full of food! I hope you don't mind, I finished it for you." Goyle said.

"I was bothered by your obese presence, so I left and came here." I replied.

"Oh…well, my mum doesn't think wizards should go on Atkins…sorry I bother you…" Goyle started. He was such a pussy.

"It's fine. I don't really care; I'm just not in the mood for it."

Goyle smiled at this, and patted me on the back (it turned out that a Concealment Charm working with a Glamour Charm covered up any facial cuts); wonderful, he was happy. I pleased the buffoon. Why was there no one intelligent to converse with?

"We should go back. We have Herbology next, with the Gryffindors. If we get there early, we can take all of the good earmuffs for the Slytherins, leaving the Gryffindors with the muffs with holes. With a lot of luck, Longbottom will go into a coma!" Crabbe declared.

"With the Gryffindors?" Magnificent. I was going to have to see Har-_Potter_ once again. _Why do I keep calling him Harry? Well, that is his name, but since when have we been on first-name basis?_

"Yep." The dumbasses responded in unison.

Goyle to my left and Crabbe to my right, we started walking towards the Herbology Garden.

Harry POV:

Herbology started as I thought it would. We were working with partners to "further our knowledge of Mandrakes' eating habits," We were working in groups, and I had been paired with Ron, but Hermione ended up without a partner, so naturally, she was assigned to work with us. After only twenty minutes of working with the Mandrakes, Hermione was helping Neville get up from the floor and then taking him to the Hospital Wing. At this, the Slytherins looked very pleased. They had gotten to the Garden early and taken all of the good earmuffs, forcing us to use the torn ones.

That left me next to a jealous Ron, who was complaining that Professor Sprout was deliberately making Hermione go off on missions.

Soon after Neville and Hermione left, a Mandrake bit Pansy Parkinson through her glove. She was bleeding like crazy, but Draco, her partner, could not go because he was in charge of their assignment, and it had to get done. That was his excuse, but I think that he was just disgusted at the sight of blood. I would have offered to go, because I was not freaked out at the sight of blood, but Ron had his hand up faster before I even decided I would not mind going to the Hospital Wing with Pansy. Ron obviously wanted to see Hermione. He was out the door with Pansy in a matter of seconds.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, please work together, since your partners have left." We simultaneously groaned, and reluctantly moved towards each other.

I did not say anything about our civil encounter, and neither did he.

The rest of the day went by quickly; Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts…it all went by in a flash. Soon, it was time for bed.

I crept into the room, and then slid behind my curtains, expertly casting a Silencing Charm on them. I switched out of my school robes and into my pajamas, then lovingly pulled Askalade out of her box under my bed.

I gently picked her up. Escalade was a dagger I had bought two years ago, five days after Sirius' death. There was a beautiful handle. It was in the shape of a dragon's head and where the shape of fire-breath was present, it shone blood red. The blade was a long, sharp piece of steel. A rose was engraved on one side, and it slithered the entire way up the side of the knife.

I ran my thumb over the rose, and then began my routine.

I first slid my right sleeve up to my shoulder. Then, muttering an almost inaudible spell, I took off the Concealment Charm I almost constantly wore. My artwork littered my arm; a scratch or two on my wrist, a gash on my bicep, and some fading scars on my forearm. My left arm was next. Once the Concealment Charm came off, my other artwork was revealed. This arm was much more battered than the right one. I had cuts overlapping each other on my forearm, crossed cuts on my bicep, triceps, and even some on my shoulder. It was like a meadow of old relief—which needed to be revived!

I looked for a bare spot on my right arm, and upon finding it close to the inside of my elbow, I picked Askalade off of the bed, then swiftly slid her vertically on my arm, careful to avoid my artery. It was the most exhilarating experience, even though I had done it many times. The blood instantly formed in a pool, then sliding down to my wrist, tickling it. I watched as the crimson liquid spilled into my palm, and pulled my fingers together so that the blood stayed in a pool. I opened my fingers slowly, watching as my blood splashed to the bed. It was beautiful, and I wanted more.

I looked at my left arm, and decided that overlapping an old cut would be great. Double the blood. I picked a spot on my bicep, and jaggedly hacked at my flesh. Once again, my crimson fluid spilled out, and I let out a moan from the pleasurable pain. When my incision stopped bleeding, I cast a Concealment Charm on my arms, and a Cleaning Charm on the bed sheets. Luckily, most of my blood had fallen to the floor, and that did not stain.

I put Askalade down; I would clean her later.

I rolled down my sleeves and climbed into bed. The warmth I had felt when I was bleeding had faded away, and now I felt like Askalade had left me, just like everyone else._ No. Askalade always comes back._ _Oh, great. I'm going insane! Talking to myself, talking about a knife as though it were human...Nah. Crazy people wouldn't realize it. I must be just fine._ I chuckled at that thought. Yeah, right. Me, fine. _That's_ why I cut myself.

_Why do I do this to myself? Because it feels good. _

My real reasons were that I felt so guilty, and no one could console me, mostly because no one ever talked to me. I wanted my parents back, and that just made me feel selfish and that made me full of more self-hatred. It was my fault that they were betrayed, that they were killed. Moreover, it was my fault that Cedric had died. I had wanted us to be equal, but I succeeded in getting him murdered, and losing the power I had over Voldemort. It used to be that if he touched me, his flesh would burn. But now…now I was unprotected around him, unless I could fend him off with magic. And because of my foolish decisions, Sirius was dead. And then, there was Vernon. He had once tried to rape me, but Petunia had come home. It would have ruined his reputation if he had been caught doing that. Petunia wouldn't give a damn, but she might have gossiped.

However, this summer would be different. I had read the muggle post, and in the obituaries, Petunia and Dudley's names were listed. Apparently there had been a car accident in which a drunk Vernon had slammed one side of the car into a gas truck. No one was in the truck, but Petunia and Dudley had been on the side of the car that had the impact. He was going to take his anger and grief out on me, and I didn't know how to stop him. Voldemort would get me if I left the house, Ron and Hermione were hardly my friends anymore, so I couldn't go to their houses, and I would surely lose my virginity and break a few bones if I stayed at the Dursley's. I just don't know what to do.

**A/N:** I hoped you liked that, but I might not be able to update in a while:

One, I'm working on starting another story.

Two, I have a lot of Jewish stuff to do (but I'm probably going to stay home on Thursday because I have a Mikvah at 4:00 PM in Squirrel Hill, and my mom has to get my sister from boarding school, so she thinks she'll let me stay home. I don't' really get why, but I'm not complaining if I'll get out of school.

Lastly, I need some ideas, or it will take me longer to get the next chapter up! So that means, REVIEW!


	3. Goldfish

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except the cardboard box I live in.

**DemonRouge:** Thanks for the review. I'm not planning to have anything real happen between them yet, hope this chapter isn't going too fast. And it is okay to have an opinion—it's not rude. And I know that the whole credit card/child welfare thing was unmusical, but hey, I don't live there. 'Sides, nothing magic-ish came to me until I posted the chap. Maybe I'll revise it then replace the first chapter. Sorry the names are confusing, but many of the spells in their world are too. They just came to me.

**Golfish682:** Hey look! I put you in! I know you are my friend and that's why you would even _consider_ reading this, but if you want funny, DON'T READ ANGST STORIES! But I guess I'm glad you like it…

**Jess the Pirate:** I'm glad that you think it works, and I will most certainly write more! Anyhoo, I read mixes of large-amounts-of-hatred stories, but a lot of stories with crumbling boundaries.

**alamony: **Well, here's the next one!

**Morena Evensong:** I like naming things... Goyle just seemed to be a fluffy teddy bear with fur on the outside and feelings on the inside (the stuffing). But he can be a brute Yeah, Harry's detachment is fairly recent, but he said that since the beginning of _sixth_ year that people had started to ignore him. They're in seventh.

**Alora: **Harry rushes to rescue eventually...don't tell anyone, but I love 'appy endings.

**A/N: **The chapter title "Goldfish" does not have anything to do with the story, but in chapter 2, I forgot to put in my reply to her review! So, this chapter is dedicated to my friend, Goldfish, whom I have known for…what is it Kati? ...two years? Mwah

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_Thoughts are italic_

Two weeks, one day into school:

"Finally!" Draco exclaimed. He had just received a package from some store in Nocturn Alley. "I can't wait to use it!" Of course, no one knew what he was talking about, so everyone at the Slytherin Table was staring intently at him, obviously waiting for an explanation. "Um…it's a…knife with the Slytherin symbol engraved on it." He did not want his fellow classmates to know about his problems. Not because he cared if they worried, maybe not even if they gave him pity. No…knowing them, they might make fun of him. _Ridiculous._ The truth was, he had finally gotten the magical dream catcher he had waited two weeks for.

"Oooohhh…the end to of my troubles!" Draco said as he embarked on a journey to the Slytherin Dungeons. His "friends" acknowledged his departure, and then went back to a sumptuous breakfast.

"Okay. I'll put it up in my room, then go back to breakfast, or class depending on how long it takes to put it up. No, if one of those bloody, snooping Slytherins found it, I would have to explain why I had it." Draco debated what to do as his legs carried him along the ever-familiar path to the Slytherin Dungeons. Draco stared at his package as he made his decision, the major factor in deciding what to do was that he didn't want anyone else seeing it.

He then heard some footsteps coming quickly down the hallway, but paid no attention to it—who would dare run into the Prince of Slytherin? Apparently, some kid, because within two seconds, he was tackled. _This kid is fast _was the thought that passed through Draco's mind before anger set in.

He looked up from where he had fallen, and found himself staring at Harry, who looked terrified.

"What was that for, Potter?" shouted Draco as he pulled himself up off the floor.

"Shh!" Harry replied. Draco being so loud had unnerved him.

"What, Potter?" Draco said in a disinterested voice. He was not going to be able to put up his dream catcher before classes began!

"Goyle!" Harry whispered hastily, in a voice that quaked with fear.

"Oh." Draco's voice went from disinterested to worried. Crabbe was never far away from Goyle, and together they could beat you to oblivion.

Draco pulled Harry urgently from the open hallway where he stood, too afraid to bother with getting out of the way.

Thankfully, this hallway jutted in on the left side, making a mini-hallway. Draco darted into it, Harry following closely. On the wall closest to where Harry had come from, there was a closet. Draco hastily opened it, grateful that it had enough room for both of them. Draco would not have as much time as it was needed to throw Harry into the closet, and then collect himself, so he plunged into it, pulling Harry in with him, because he was still too dumbfounded to move.

The whole time the pair of footsteps that belonged to Crabbe and Goyle were getting steadily nearer.

Harry fell on top of Draco, but pulled the door behind him as soon as he regained balance. He was leaning over Draco, and the light from under the door made Draco gleam supernaturally.

The door. Crabbe and Goyle on the other side. Draco and Harry realized this at the same time, and stilled themselves instantly. Draco tensed up against the ground, and Harry wondered if his muscles would support him—who knew how long they would be here.

Harry and Draco were a bit less than a foot apart from each other's face, waiting anxiously for Crabbe and Goyle to come and go.

"…where did that bastard go!" Goyle's voice was heard. Harry cringed and Draco looked at him curiously.

"By the way, why **are** we chasing him?" questioned Crabbe.

"Because he must have set that mandrake on Pansy!" Harry grumbled indignantly. Draco looked at him incredulously. _Dumbass! If he makes any more noise, we are going to be caught!_ Draco rapidly clapped a hand over Harry's mouth to shut him up. He regretted it right away, because Harry's hot breathing was making him sweat. Not to mention it was making parts of his anatomy that had not been _aroused_ in a while to wake up. "None of the other Gryffindors are smart enough to do that, and it's not normal for a mandrake to do that!" Goyle responded.

_Actually, it is. _Draco and Harry both thought.

"Hey, look! There's another hallway over here!" Crabbe's voice sounded too close for comfort. _Oh G-d, they're going to kill me!_ Thought Harry. _Shit. If they catch me hiding Potter, I'll never live it down!_ Was the thought going through Draco's mind.

"Okay, let's look in the closet!" Goyle said.

"No way! Peeves is probably hiding in there! It's the best place for a trickster to hide! No…let's just look at these classrooms. I don't feel in the mood to have boiling hot lasagna poured on my head." replied Crabbe.

"No, these are the Magic-Tutoring Classes that Professor McGonagall teaches. Even Peeves cannot get through the spells protecting this classroom. Are you _sure_ we shouldn't check the closet?" whined Goyle.

"Hey, I'm the brains here, and I say no!" shouted Crabbe.

At this, Draco did his best to suppress his laughter. In an attempt not to shriek out in mirth, Draco tensed up his head, and pulled his legs to him, as if trying to get into the fetal position. However, with Harry on top of him, all Draco managed to do was straddle Harry. Losing the fit of laughter, Draco stayed in this position, fearful of hitting the door.

Harry, at the same time, was shaking with the effort of containing his amusement. If Draco's hand hadn't been on his mouth, they would have surely been caught.

_My wand. I could use it to cast a silencing charm, and then we could move around!_ Thought Harry. He pulled his wand out of its place in his robes as silently as he could.

However, Draco seemed to have had this thought earlier. And thought the better of it. If they said the incantation, then they ran the risk of being heard. In addition, it was said that if you were on the outside of the area that was being silenced, a purple light flashed by the spot that was receiving the charm, which would surely give them away.

To show his disapproval, he shook his head violently, and tightened his grip on Harry's mouth. Harry took the hint, and dejectedly put his wand away.

Draco nodded calmly in response. They would just have to wait for Crabbe and Goyle to leave.

"Goyle! We're going to be late for class! Draco will be so disspointed!" Crabbe said urgently. Draco moved his hand hurriedly to check to make sure that he still had his dream catcher with him. It was still there.

"Yeah! Let's get out of here! He left breakfast early, so he's probably already at class already, talking to Snape!" Goyle said, and before long, their footsteps were fading into the distance.

Harry and Draco, still hesitant to move, stayed motionless and soundless. The only thing that happened was Draco removing his hand from its position on Harry's mouth.

Harry was the first to move, being the brave Gryffindor that he was. His plan was to roll off Draco to the left, and then let the Slytherin open up the door. So, he shifted his weight to his left arm. This would have allowed him to roll off Draco if not for three things.

One, this brought him ever closer to Draco's face.

Two, Draco had begun to move upward as soon as he saw Harry moving.

Three, both of their mouths were slightly open.

Their mouths collided with the slightest "plop".

_Oh G-d. Oh no. Oh my…_thought Draco. _Potter is kissing me! I am kissing Potter! _Thought a very disturbed Draco. _Well, actually, his lips are just resting on top of mine. Yes, that's all we're doing. _Draco thought.

_Incredibly warm. Soft. _Draco thought dreamily. _Wait a bloody second! Warm! Soft! _Draco opened his eyes, which (for some reason) had been shut, and saw that he was indeed kissing Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived. Unconsciously, he rolled his tongue over Harry's.

The odd thing was, that Draco didn't hate it. Harry's mouth was nice and warm, and his lips were so much sweeter and gentler than his mother's.

Long ago had he accepted his homosexuality. Even when he had had girlfriends, there had always been a part of him that was attracted to men. However, after the _experience_ with his mother, he had been completely turned off girls.

So now here he was, sharing a delightful snog with his enemy.

WAIT. THAT IS NOT RIGHT, NOT NORMAL, NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN.

He pulled away hastily, leaving the warmth of Harry's lips and reminiscing how wonderfully soft and kissable they were.

"Potter, that was disgusting." He lied. "It **never **happened. Clear? Good." Without waiting for a proper answer, he grabbed his dream catcher, kicked the door open, and barged outside, leaving behind a bewildered Harry.

Harry says to **READ THE AUTHOR NOTE!

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**

**A/N: **I had planned to put a lot more into this chapter, but my mom gave me cruel and unusual punishment. One, she is making me complete all homework and then all chores before I am allowed onto the computer. Two, she just grounded me from the computer for four days. I snuck on it almost every night at like, 12:00 PM to write, just for you people, my lovely reviewers. Therefore, if I don't update soon, I hope you will understand.


	4. Shot Down Again

**Disclaimer: **If I owned the HP characters, why would I waste my time here?

**DemonRouge: **I had loads of fun writing that.

**Dione Shadow: **Well, they could have been kissing for quite a while, which allowed him to think all of that. And, if there weren't those "coincidences", then stories would never work. I mean, it's always, "it just so happened" in my opinion.

**Morena Evensong: **If you recall, Draco thought to himself that he knew he would not have any time to hide Harry (which we will clear up why he did that) and still have time to collect himself for his friends. And though Crabbe and Goyle are a bit slow, they might be suspicious.

**AloraBraken: **And ever, and ever, and ever……..

**Autore: **Life's interference was not too controlling, even though I only had one week of Spring Break. And that's exactly how I plan to ease their pain grins

**Goldfish682:** I'm glad you're happy about it. And yes, parents can be uhhhh…let's just say "mean".

**Black Dios: **He probably will, but you never know. They're both controlling figures…

**A/N**: _Thoughts are italic…along with lyrics._

My heart goes out to all of my faithful reviewers, and my sincerest apologies for the delay in updating. Hectic can only describe my life. But my Benchmarks team pulled it off! We finished! Soon we'll know if we make the finals. I hope we do, because last week, I stayed after school EVERY DAY, and the groups put in more than 13 hours in just one week. And thanks to my beta…myself. Here's the chapter:

_

* * *

It wasn't supposed to be like this._

_Another dose of unhappiness._

_I gave it all and managed to get shot down yet again._

_"Emily" by Bowling for Soup_

Right after "the kiss":

I looked down at the still unopened parcel in my hands.

"G-d damn that Potter! Not only am I late for class, but I haven't even gotten to _look_ at the dream catcher!" I shouted into the empty hallway, as I raced towards Snape's classroom. My reputation…destroyed.

_Ah, screw it. I'm already late. Why rush?_ I thought aggravated, slowing my pace.

Behind me, I heard heavy footsteps coming closer. The sound reverberated off the walls, and I shuddered. Soon, Crabbe and Goyle were shouting my name.

"Bloody hell, Drake? If you was skipping, ya should have told us!" Goyle exclaimed, patting me on the back. I was almost sent to floor by the intense strength. What good bodyguards. After recovering, I responded.

"I am not skipping, I am simply taking my time. What are you two imbeciles doing out here? Don't tell me you forgot the way…" I said, eyeing them disgustedly.

"No, of course not! We were in Potions, and we saw you weren't there, so we excused ourselves…" began Crabbe.

"We searched the kitchens, 'cause we saw you left early, we looked in the dorm rooms, and then thought that maybe you'd gone to class already, so we was headin' back. Where ya been?" finished Goyle.

"Amazing someone with such poor grammar could possibly have a grade at all. I would have expected _negative_ results." I muttered.

In all honesty, after the encounter with Harry, I had roamed the halls. Suddenly, it seemed silly to be complaining about not being able to put up the dream catcher, or for being late for class. It's ridiculous that I had not gone down to the Slytherin Dungeons, or gone to class in all the time I had. Instead, I had spent a good while outside, watching Peeves attempt to make a duck fall into a trap made of firewhisky and flames.

But I wasn't going to tell the two goons that—they were curious blokes, and would keep interrogating me. In the end, I would give them one answer. So I just cut to the chase.

"None of your bloody business, now let's get to class." I hissed, and sauntered ahead of them, head held high.

"Right." Crabbe and Goyle replied in unison. Apparently, this was funny, for the two burst into a fit of laughter. I, however, was un-amused, not to mention irritated, and kept walking.

Crabbe and Goyle instantly fell into step behind me, as they had done for many years.

Walking with Crabbe and Goyle allowed me no time to think about why I had protected Harry in the first place. I also could not ponder on why I had allowed "the thing" to happen. The two were quite talkative. They gossiped like women on holiday.

"…so I hear that Blaise beats his mom."

This caught my attention. Blaise and I had been the best of friends. We had shared the same interests, opinions, and lifestyles. That is, until third year. And although I had been very distant in my self-pity, I had noticed a dramatic change in Blaise. He was much more violent.

"Oh really? Who told you?" I questioned, much more interested in the conversation now.

"Only the best—Pansy. She knows because she was over at his house and she says she saw him perform the Crucio. She's afraid he'll do it to her too, and wants to break up with him. But he said that if she tried to, he'd kill her." Declared Goyle.

"He sure has changed." I muttered.

"Yeah." whispered Goyle, before slipping into the classroom. Crabbe followed suit.

After tucking my package in my robes, I crept into the room.

I ignored the disapproving stare from Snape and the other Slytherins. I dismissed the glares from the Gryffindors, as always, and found my seat at the back of the room.

"Mr. Malfoy, what a surprise? Coming in so late…five points from Slytherin." Bellowed Snape from across the room.

The Gryffindors closest to me whispered, "It would have been **ten** points from Gryffindor."

Snape snapped his head instantly to where the pair of Gryffindors had been whispering. "Talking during class! Ten points from Gryffindor!" The two only nodded to each other, and rolled their eyes.

Snape gave them a hard glare. It seemed as though one of the boys was going to faint right then and there from the obvious hatred emitting from the stare.

Snape turned his head back to the board, where lay scribbled a series of notes on the Veritaserum Potion. We would be making it tomorrow, meaning that today was a solely note-taking day.

A few of the Slytherin girls, along with a few Gryffindors, got up from their seats and asked to be excused from class. Feigning illness, desperate kidneys, appointments with Dumbledore, or anything they could think of. Snape turned each one down.

There were about three people in the entire classroom (which held over fifty people), who took out there notes eagerly. Hermione, some Slytherin girl (whose face was not visible behind her hair and her notebook), and Ha—_Harry Potter _was actually taking notes? Eagerly?

I reluctantly pulled my notebook out from underneath my stack of books. _Why is it that muggles can create an Internet, which I hear you can do anything on—shop, listen to music…but we cannot even conceive a spell that would copy the information from the board to the notebook? _Something to think about and research.

And so went Potions Class. Lucky for us, we were having double Potions that day, so for the longest time, all you could hear was the scribble of quills and Snape's lecturing.

* * *

The rest of the day flew by like nobody's business. Before I realized it, all classes were done, and there were three hours until it was time to go to sleep.

I had diligently taken notes in Potions, and decided that I deserved an evening by the lake. Just Drakstile, the comfort of the lake, and me.

Not wanting to be stopped by a classmate and have my mood ruined, I took the longest and most remote way up to the common room.

Of course, remote does not always mean completely deserted. **_I_** was there after all, wasn't I?

Being the "busy" hallway it was, who should I come across, but the famous Harry Potter?

My shock and terror at seeing him could not possibly be described. I was horrified—I thought that maybe he would question what had happened before.

I mentally kicked myself for coming this way. I would rather talk to Blaise any day. But hey, maybe he wouldn't want to talk about it either.

But as the fates would have it, Harry (because it's okay to call him by his first name in my thoughts, isn't it?) could not leave it hanging.

"Er…Malfoy?" he said nervously. _Yes, that's my name. _I thought bitterly. I did not voice this opinion. Instead, I said, "Yes?" coldly.

"Um…about the thing…in the closet…well, I—"Harry began, not seeming to know how to voice his thoughts.

I cut him off, saying, "**_I _**want to forget it happened. You are everything I hate **1, **and it was a total accident. If anything, you practically _forced _me." Immediately after saying that, I got a sick feeling in my stomach—I thought of my mom.

This sparked something in him. Harry dropped his books, gave me a death glare, and before I realized it, his Quidditch-trained fist connected with my jaw.

I dropped to the floor; the pain he inflicted was extreme. I clutched my jaw, and huddled my body together. However, this is not what Harry wanted.

He grabbed the front of my shirt, and lifted me by my shoulders. I looked up at him fearfully—this was what Lucius was like when he was about to beat me.

He pushed me up against the wall and glared at me. "I was not the one who engaged the kiss. I was trying to roll off to the side. was trying to roll off to the side. _You_ were the one who landed your fucking lips on mine!" he finished, shouting.

I must admit. He looked very…oh, what's the word for this? Handsome? Delicious? Whatever the word, all I could do was stare at him when he was so emotional.

Although the kiss had been amazing, and right now Harry looked quite..., I could never picture myself doing anything intimate with _anyone_ after my mom, no matter the gender.

"Are you even listening!" Harry hissed into my face. He lifted me up higher on the wall, and was pressed up against me—thank G-d that certain anatomy were not rubbing together. I was weak-kneed as it was.

I opened my mouth to speak, shut it again for lack of words, repeated, and then managed to get out, "Uh…"

Harry exhaled deeply, and his breathed acted like a ghost across my face.

By this time, Harry was completely supporting me. "Yes. I agree. It never happened, because I would never kiss someone like you.Evil piece of shit." This shocked me. I mean, I had thought that he would say that, but I would have thought for sure that he would mention the fact that we were the same sex. I thought that that would be one of the main reasons for not being interested.

Was he gay? I was so curious…

"What about the fact that I'm a boy? Why didn't you say something about the fact that if you had wanted to kiss me, you would be gay?" I questioned hesitantly.

"You didn't say it either." Harry responded with a chuckle.

I gasped. In retrospect, I hadn't said anything about his gender because I didn't care. "Well…uh…I…"

"Whatever, Malfoy. Homosexuality isn't a crime, unless you're religious." Harry said bemusedly. After looking me up and down, he said, "Which by the looks of you, you aren't."

"I am not a queer! Even the thought of it revolts me!" I said, in denial. Oh, how it would ruin my reputation!

Harry let go of my shoulders and I immediately regained my strength. "Sure." He said, disbelief obvious in his tone.

I gained a somber disposition, and stepped up to him. "Don't ever, ever say things like that about me. If you talk like that behind my back, I'll find out, and you'll be in for some serious shit." I paused, letting that sink in. "And I doubt that even you, the high and mighty Gryffindor, would dare to have the audacity to insult me to my face." I said proudly, and started my walk back to the Slytherin dorms.

"Fag!" Harry shouted, as he was already halfway down the hall.

* * *

My calm mood had been destroyed, so I stormed the entire way up to the common room. When Pansy said hello to me, I simply scowled and continued on to my room.

I yanked Drakstile out of her special compartments, and as an afterthought, grabbed the dream catcher so that I could study it while I was outside.

I was by the lake in no time. I put the dream catcher and Drakstile on either side of me, and stared into the depths of the lake. I contemplated my future, and the upcoming holiday. Would I go home? And face the torture?

What brought me out of my pondering was a rustle in some nearby bushes.

I twisted my head around, trying to see who was disturbing me this time. No one appeared, and the rustling stopped. So I turned back to my possessions.

I was still furious about the confrontation Harry and I had had, and just thinking about it made me even more livid.

I picked up Drakstile gingerly, for even in my fuming anger I could not bring myself to harm her.

I looked for an open spot on my exposed arm, and not finding one, I chose an old scar.

I found that on normal days, when I just felt exhausted with depression, my cuts were shallow and sometimes did not even bleed.

But when I was angry, or full of any other emotion, the cuts that raked my arms were vicious, deep, and bloody.

Today was one of those special days where I was furious.

For such a beautiful knife, Drakstile sure could slice. The beautiful liquid streamed down my arm, filling me with such a relieved pleasure, no words can truly describe the sensation.

I stared at the blood that continued to flow out of my arm, and was overcome by an odd, superficial serenity.

But any peace at all was good enough for me, and I relished those moments.

Eventually, my cuts stopped their outpour of blood. But I continued to stare at my red cuts, thinking of when I first began my self-harm.

The first times I had cut myself had been when my father had beaten me. They were never serious. I never made myself bleed until I was comfortable with the blade.

It was actually a gradual procession. I was, at first, afraid of cutting myself. I was looking for a way to relieve my stress and my emotional pain, so I just scraped a pair of scissors across my wrist.

Nothing bled, and I barely felt anything. But that was just the beginning—within a month, the cuts were deeper; more meaningful.

Within a year, which was a bit before my mother had her way with me, I was taking scissors to almost every inch of my arms, and my blood had permanently stained my sheets, underneath the charms.

I woke up from my trance, and soon felt my head fill with the unpleasant thoughts that often roamed the terrain of my mind. I felt tears sting my eyes, but blinked them away, deciding to occupy my mind by opening the dream catcher.

I put Drakstile down, but not before wiping her blood-spattered blade against the grass to try to remove the blood.

I picked up the dream catcher, which was still in the box it came in, and started tearing off the tape that held the parcel together.

Inside the parcel, there were two objects. One was the "Introduction to Cachan Dream Catcher". Oh yea, that's the store I got it from. I wasn't really interested in "how it works" or "it's history". I wanted to examine the dream catcher itself.

I picked up the second package, and unwrapped it. The paper fell away from my dream catcher, and I was pleasantly surprised.

The dream catcher was not very big, which was good for me because I could hide it from my snobby "friends".

It had a black leather circle about a millimeter thick, with white string in the middle that criss-crossed. On one of the strings, in the upper left, there was one black bead. There were strings of black leather, with black feathers. The tips of feathers were white stripes.

Yes, it was beautiful, but I didn't think it looked very magical. I was going to look at the aforementioned "instruction manual", but heard the rustling yet again.

This time, I took more precautions. I swiftly hid my dream catcher and knife in my robes.

I slowly lifted myself up from the ground, and began making my way towards the school, hoping whatever (or whoever) was in the bushes would not follow me.

I had almost reached the school when I heard something behind me. Potter.

"Well hello Potty." I said, while smirking.

Much to my surprise, I received a rapid punch to the face. Well then, Potter.

"Ha. **_I'm_** taking the high road." I said, and stalked off, soon walking into yet another deserted hallway.

Potter followed me, but in retrospect, I don't think it was because he was trying to annoy me. There was the possibility that he was just going in the same direction.

However, I didn't take it like that then.

"G-d damn-it, Potter! Following me? Are you just trying to piss me off!" I shouted.

He simply shrugged. I turned behind me and lifted my fists, teasing his anxiety with fake throws at his face.

"Don't think I won't." I snarled. In response, he lifted his hands, too, and circled around me, saying:

"What made you think that? Just because girls **can** beat you up doesn't mean I don't **want** to." Potter snarled back, just as mean. He was definitely referring back to when that damned Granger hit me. What a bitch; both of them.

I tackled him to the ground, and then began swinging my fists at his face. He struggled, but being underneath me was quite the disadvantage.

About the time Harry's body went limp underneath mine, I wondered with horror—why was I doing this!

I looked down at the once-spotless form of Harry. His face was distorted and scrunched up from pain.

I unclenched my fists.

Blood spattered his angelic face.

I stared down at my "fists of fury" that had hurt Harry, who was notorious for being kind and brave.

Once over my guilt, I decided that I had to do something with his unconscious body, and hauled him to a closet.

I left the door slightly ajar so that he could get out, but not too open that a passerby would notice anything.

I hastily left the "crime scene", my heart still pounding from the fight and from nervousness of being caught red-handed.

I rushed up to the Slytherin Common Room, where a hoard of proud Slytherins had been waiting for my return.

"What are you smiling about?" I said. "It's so out of character." I added with a smirk.

"What are you talking about? You're the one who beat up Granger! It's out of character for **you **not to smile!" Pansy chimed in among the chatter of other Slytherins.

I gaped at them. "Huh? As much as I would love to, and would deeply enjoy, bloodying up Granger, I did not such thing."

"Oh." Said Pansy dejectedly.

"Blaise—tell me the story." I ordered.

"Okay, well in the middle of dinner, Granger comes in, with her Weasel of a boyfriend close behind. Weasley is looking absolutely livid, and 'ittle Granger looks terrified. It was hilarious; they were quite the pair." Blaise began, pausing to let that beginning sink in.

"Go on." I commanded.

"Now, you were missing, or we would have asked you what you had done now. However, we assumed that you had done it because you weren't there. Ron goes to his table and makes Hermione sit by Neville, 'cause their beloved Harry wasn't there."

I cringed at this. Yeah, I know why he wasn't there.

"Then he comes up to our table, and starts hollering at me about 'where's your jackass of a friend?' and 'what the hell is wrong with your House! Look what Malfoy did to Hermione!' and then pointed to her, where she was crying."

He paused there to chuckle.

"He huffed then, and went to go sit back at his table. He shot glares at our table all evening. He must have been looking for you."

"Do you know what actually happened to Granger? Or who?" I questioned.

"Yeah. I heard it from some people in my Transfiguration Class." said a girl in her third year.

"Well, go on!" shouted some boys from the opposite side of the room. All attention was focused on the youngster, and for a moment she seemed to regret saying anything at all. But then she continued.

"Apparently, Granger was walking through the Quidditch fields, studying some notes for Potions class. I think I heard they were on Veritaserum."

A few people nodded their heads and grumbled in agreement.

"Yeah, okay, so I also heard that while she was by the stands, some guy jumped out from behind her. He was in a black cloak with the Slytherin emblem, but she thinks she saw some blonde hair."

Eyes glanced over at me, but I waved at the girl, motioning for her to continue. Soon attention was back on the storyteller.

"He pushed her to the ground, and she landed face-first. Her whole face and robes were covered with mud, and she started screaming."

_I'm surprised I didn't hear her._

"He pushed her face further into the ground when she did that, so being the "genius" she is she stopped screaming. Which is exactly what he wanted—no one would know she was in trouble. Personally, I would have kept screaming and fighting."

More nodding and grumbling.

"Then he started whacking her over the head with some bat, and kicking her legs. He turned her over, and started punching her face, calling her 'Mudblood', and kicking her ribs. She got knocked out, and when she woke up, she was all alone."

It was silent in the room at this point.

"The only thing to remind her what had happened and who this person was, was the mud she was covered with, the pain in her stomach and head, memories of the black cloak with the Slytherin symbol and blond hair, and one other thing."

She paused here, and smiled broadly; obviously loving the suspense her audience had.

"This other thing: she was chained to a goalpost by a hand-cuff that had the initials: DM. She assumed it was you. End of story."

People started chattering again, conversing about their opinions of the story, or the versions they were told.

I however, was deep in thought. I was wondering what guy would be dumb enough to leave ANYONE chained to anything with his initials on the chain, beat someone "anonymously" but wear his House's symbol on his cloak, or have the same initials as me.

Then it hit me. David Markeez. I had had trouble with him last year. There had been a massive food fight, and guess who was responsible? David. But who was blamed? Me.

He was not the brightest kid, but he sure was biased and prejudiced. My father met him, and instantly loved him, because all the kid talks about is 'Mudbloods' this and 'joining the Dark Side' that. This, of course, meant that Blaise adored him, too.

I stormed up to his dorm room, where I found him snogging a fifth-year. I rolled my eyes and sighed, knocked on the already-open door, and chuckled when I saw their shocked faces which had been torn away from each other.

"I need to speak to David, missy." I said. I watched her leave, and then turned to David. "Y-yes?" he stammered. Good. I strike fear in people. I mentally rolled my eyes.

"I'm sure you've heard about what happened to…"I was going to say "Granger", but I thought he would be more comfortable with "mudblood". "the mudblood?"

He visibly relaxed, and slouched down on his bed. "Yeah. I heard about it. Of course I did, I did it!"

"You did, did you now?" I said. "Well, yeah!"

I stalked over to him, and I could see that he tensed up instantly.

"You see, I'm being blamed for it. It is not that I feel pity, and hey, it would be great for my cold reputation! However, it's the fact that I will be in serious trouble with the few friends Granger has accumulated. Understand?" I said.

"So what you're saying is that you want me to take the blame, for something I did do, which would get me in big trouble." He said slowly. Yeah, definitely not the brightest kid.

"Well, duh! I'm not taking your shit for you. Now go down there, tell them what you did, and if any Gryffindors come up to me, accusing me of what **you **did, stand up for me."

"No." And with that, he jumped up from his bed, and headed towards the door—probably going in search of that girl.

I threw a lamp at him; it hit him square in the head. He fell down, but didn't get knocked out. I stepped over him gingerly, making a 'humph' sound as I passed.

What was I going to do! I could tell the Gryffindors who actually did it, and advise that they take him and use some Veritaserum (we _were_ learning how to use it…) on him and get the truth. But who would believe someone who was notorious for being a jackass! **And**, to top it off, I had just beaten the hell out of Harry Potter!

I left the Common Room, even though there was not that much time until lights-out. I just wanted to think of a way to get out of trouble for something that I didn't do. I could carry around some Veritaserum, and if they questioned me, I could drink it and tell them that I hadn't done it.

But I still didn't really know how to make it, and if I asked Snape for some of his Veritaserum, he would probably want to know why I wanted it. There was just no solution!

However, having time to think was not what Fate wanted for me, because who should I pass, but the Golden Trio, surrounded by a few other friends.

Weasley and Granger were actually paying attention to Potter, and Harry was hugging Hermione. As I neared them, I could hear Harry saying to Granger, "Yeah, I know, it definitely seems like something Malfoy would do."

When I came into their direct line of view, Weasley started walking towards me again, but Granger tugged on his arm and both of them settled for just glaring at me.

When I passed Harry, he shot me such a look I almost cried.

Almost.

It was so hateful, so full of utter loathing!**2**

And…possible embarrassment.

Harry had a black eye.

**1:** I apologize for the cheesiness there…

**2**Kati, lol…

**A/N:** I hope you loved this chap! Review, and tell me what you think! Once again, my sympathies for being soooooooo late!


	5. Sufferings, Part One

**A/N:** It's not that I've been "busy", but I just needed some inspiration for writing this story. I hadn't been getting reviews, and I was considering just completely abandoning this story and the whole "writing fanfiction" thing. But I asked my friend if I should do that, and she said "no!" So let's give a big round of applause to Goldfish682 for making me want to actually write this chapter/story! P

Thanks for your reviews, the few people who actually did!

**Disclaimer: **lalala I own nothing! J. K. Rowling is the amazing, creative person who came up with these beloved characters. Actually, the only thing I own are the computer and keyboard I'm writing this with, my brain, and a few random people I came up with that are completely insignificant.

**A/N:** I guess, enjoy. Totally sorry for the delay.

* * *

Though still enraged about being beaten up by Draco Malfoy, Harry's life went on.

On the bright side, after being assaulted by "Draco Malfoy" (everyone from the other houses had yet to find out the true culprit), Hermione, and therefore Ron, had been paying more and more attention to Harry.

This was all fine and dandy, but revenge on Draco was on his mind. Contrary to the rest of his House, who assumed that the "tall blonde Slytherin" who attacked Hermione was Draco, Harry knew very well that it wasn't. Because at the time that Hermione was harassed, so was he. And by the **actual** Malfoy.

So with suppressed rage for a certain people, life at Hogwarts went on.

By the time a week after Hermione's attack rolled by, things had started to quiet down. Harry's bruise had even lessened its appearance, as did Harry's scars. He had been so preoccupied, what with a test in Potions coming up, and with having friends again, he hadn't HAD a chance to be depressed and wallow in his misery.

Nevertheless, if he was in high spirits and busy now, he probably wouldn't be when the Christmas holidays came around. Hermione and Ron and nearly the entire Gryffindor House was going home to visit with their beloved family.

Ron had even offered to take Harry home with him (**A/N: not like MJ, you weirdos!**) but when he owled his mom about it, her reply said that Mr. Weasley was sick and it was to be just a family gathering, and her apologies.

And here's where came the depression: Harry didn't have a loving family to go home to. He felt left out once again, but he felt angry at himself when he thought like that, because he had his best friends again. And it wasn't as though they just said "hi" and "bye" every once in a while. Ron and Hermione were off their "honeymoon phase" so they were less inattentive to the rest of the world. They had engaging conversations, gossiped (as girly as that sounds, the guys did it too), and pulled pranks with Fred and George.

He felt like a dog; they only see the present, and when you leave them to go to a party or something, while you're gone they think you'll never come back. That's what he felt like.

Unfortunately, that's what had happened to him so many times. Sirius, his parents, and then while Hagrid was at Azkaban in his first year, he thought he'd never get him back.

A week prior to most of the school's Christmas (or Hannuka/Kwanza in some cases) departure, Professor McGonagall ordered all students who were staying over the holidays to write their names on a magical list. Hermione found the list quite interesting, because as soon as you wrote your name down on the list, a list in the kitchen and in Dumbledore's office magically had your name on it, too. She wondered if she could enchant some sort of charm that would make anything she said (if she was telling a story) be written on parchment so she wouldn't have to repeat her words.

As Hermione went to the library to see if she could check out a book that would help her with this charm, he and Ron went to the list of those who were staying. Harry signed his name, and Ron and him checked out who else was staying.

"Wow, Harry, you're almost the only person here!" Ron exclaimed. Usually a lot of people went home, but this time, it seemed like a rush to get home.

"Yeah, I know! Let's see, Tiffany Malsif is staying—she's that Ravenclaw third-year we hexed that time we tried to give Malfoy that random-truth curse," Harry said. "it's a shame, really. She didn't even have any good secrets!" Harry said jokingly.

"Awh, you poor, poor man! That insufferable git _Malfoy_ is staying, too!" Ron cried.

"_Splendid_." Harry said irritably, with sarcasm evident in his voice.

"Yeah. Hey, you wanna go see if Fred n' George will give you some tips and ideas for pranking him? No way you can spend a few weeks without even trying, right mate?" Ron asked.

"You bet. Last time we went to Hogsmeade I saw them go into the joke shop, and when they came out, they didn't have any money left, so I think they'll have some really embarrassing ones I can try. Maybe I can video-tape them!"

"Maybe you can what?" Ron asked, bewildered.

"A muggle thing. Never mind." Replied Harry.

They searched the castle for the twins, eventually finding them in the kitchen, trying to persuade a house-elf to give them some food.

"But come on, we're hungry!" shouted George.

In a high-pitched voice, the house-elf said, "Lunch-time will be soon! Now please leave the kitchens!".

This attracted many house-elves, and being out-numbered, Fred and George sulked out. However, they perked up when they heard what Ron and Harry were up to.

That day in Transfiguration Class was the perfect opportunity for Harry to quench his thirst for revenge. They were making belts turn into garden snakes, when Ron heard Malfoy talking quietly to his friends. He nudged Harry and jerked his head toward the Slytherin group.

"…so when I heard Potty was staying, I knew I had to do something to embarrass him. It is Potter, after all! So I jinxed his bathroom to smell like diarrhea after he leaves it, even if all he did was wash his face or something."

"How did you get into their room to do it?" asked Blaise.

"I had one of those ditzy Gryffindor girls do it. A quick make-out session and they'll do anything!"

At this, the whole group started cracking up, muffling their hysterical laughter with their hands and trying to look innocent by stirring their cauldrons blankly, while still talking.

Harry, however, had had enough.

"Inflectos Jelly!" he whispered to his wand. This spell caused the victim to have the consistency of Jello after it's been out in the sun for a while.

A few seconds after Harry said these words, Malfoy was on the floor. Nothing looked wrong with him, other than that he was on the floor. McGonagall stalked over to Malfoy, shooting accusatory glares at suspicious-looking students.

McGonagall stuck out her hand for Malfoy to grab so she could pull him up off the floor. He didn't reach for it; simply looked at it.

She reached down to take his hand in her and haul him off the floor and scold him for disrupting her class, as everyone's eyes were fixed on the situation, rather than the belts that were slithering off desks and leaving the room, hissing.

However, when she grabbed his hand, it was all mushy. Then, his pointer finger slid smoothly off the rest of his hand. It seemed to be pulled, like when you pull a piece of Silly Putty too far it thins out then breaks. Only this was more fluid. McGonagall shrieked; as did all of the girls and even some of the guys. When she dropped his hand, the flexible finger glided down Malfoy's hand, and then molded itself onto his palm.

"WHO DID THIS!" McGonagall screamed, her eyes ablaze with fury.

A few of the Slytherins pointed their fingers at Harry, and soon, many other of his enemies joined in.

Professor McGonagall rounded on him. "WHAT SORT OF THING POSSESSED YOU TO DO THIS TO A CLASSMATE!"

Harry shifted his weight on his feet, feeling very uncomfortable.

"Well, uh, I—he…"

"He just did it randomly! He's a madman!" yelled Parvati.

"No I'm not! Malfoy jinxed my bathroom to smell like sh—(he stopped himself from saying it in front of the Professor) diarrhea whenever I leave it, even if I didn't _do anything_! THAT was spontaneous and mean! HE'S the madman!" shouted Harry.

Professor McGonagall turned her petrifying gaze on Malfoy, but before she could speak, one of Malfoy's friends chimed in: "How would you know that he did that, Potter? _Eavesdropping?_" he inquired.

"Absolutely not! It was stupid of Malfoy to be talking about me when I'm RIGHT BEHIND HIM!" Harry said heatedly.

"SILENCE. This is so silly and petty! Now Mr. Malfoy, did you jinx Mr. Potter's lavatory?" The Professor asked.

Malfoy looked around the room innocently, as if he couldn't speak, so he wouldn't have to answer.

"MR. Malfoy! I have experience with this particular curse, and know very well that you can speak! Now answer, or face the consequences of your stubborn actions."

"Alright, yeah, I can talk."

"Answer. Did you jinx Mr. Potter's bathroom?"

Now it was Malfoy's turn to be uncomfortable.

"Well….yea," but he quickly started, "but—"

"ENOUGH. I have heard ENOUGH. You, Mr. Malfoy, and" she turned to Harry, "you, Mr. Potter, will serve detention with me at 9:00 tonight."

"Nine o' clock? That's pretty early. Usually they start…at like, ten." Harry thought aloud.

"You will be starting 'so early' because by the time you finish it will be at least eleven. Twelve if I start you at ten o' clock. I've got work for you boys to do. Now Mr. Zabini, please escort Mr. Malfoy to the infirmary."

"Can I have a wheelbarrow? I can't exactly carry him…"

McGonagall looked at him wearily, then pointed to a cupboard in the back of the room.

Harry groaned inaudibly, thinking: _Damn Malfoy. I have detention and I won't be able to use my freaking toilet!_

* * *

At 9:00 that night, Harry was right outside Professor McGonagall's door. He was hoping that he got here before Malfoy, just because, but could stall no longer, and opened the door.

_Woo hoo, I am here before him!_ Thought Harry. Professor McGonagall wanted Harry to wait for Malfoy to get here before they started their punishment, which turned out to be cleaning the toilets in the West Wing of the school. "Seems appropriate, after all, that's what this whole dispute was about!"

However, after then minutes of waiting for Malfoy to arrive, they were both becoming impatient.

"Could he still be at the infirmary?" Harry asked.

McGonagall shook her head. "No. That curse wears off within two hours anyway, and it only takes to minutes in the infirmary to cure."

She stood up to go look through the door to see if Malfoy was on his way. He wasn't. However, a young Slytherin girl, fourth year, was striding down the hallway.

Professor McGonagall stepped outside the door, talked the girl, then came back inside.

"Mr. Potter, this young girl, Miss Sible, will be taking you up to Mr. Malfoy's room, where you will make sure he gets himself down here this instant."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry replied. _Cool—I'm gonna get to see the Slytherin Common Room. I wonder what's changed since I last saw it…what am I saying? I'll get to see Malfoy's room! How exciting._ Harry thought to himself, then thought of how ridiculously lame that sounded.

"Well, get a move on, it's already 9:13!"

Miss Sible, who's first name was Maria, turned out to be one of the sluts of the school. She was obviously flirting with him, giggling at him; it was almost funny. Almost. Her top was almost not there, and her capris were extremely tight so her ass stuck out.

When they got to the entrance to the common room, Maria told him to wait around the corner: she wasn't stupid enough to let him hear the password.

Grudgingly, he turned the corner, but of course strained his ears to hear the password. Didn't hear it. She called him over again, and he entered the room.

The Slytherins had gotten new armchairs, all made of black leather. Their fireplace had mounds of green and silver incense next to it, and they had black, fake snakes popping from the ceiling spontaneously. Harry wondered what enchantment got them to do that. The Gryffindor Common Room was much more boring, and Harry felt almost embarrassed of his common room. He would definitely have to make it more lively. Of course, how vain is that?

While he struggled with himself, Maria and him walked up to the boys' dormitories. Maria gave a yelp of happiness when she saw her boyfriend, who Harry didn't know. Maria waved her hand vaguely around the room, and said "Find him." And proceeded to walk down to the Common Room hand-in-hand with her boyfriend.

"Malfoy! You're late for detention! We're cleaning toilets, so we have to get a move on it!"

He got no response, so he checked all around the room. He decided to check the bathrooms. (**A/N: It's like I have to go to the bathroom! That's where, like, everything is! Weird….anyway:**) What he found made him want to gag, and cry.

There, leaning over the sink, bleeding, bruised, gasping for air, and visibly fatigued, was Draco Malfoy.

"M-Malfoy?"


	6. Sufferings, Part Two

**Goldfish682: **What kind of a review was that? Just kidding, thanks.

**Jess the Pirate: **Thanks for the review!  evil cliffie! That's the first cliffie I've made, so woo hoo!

**Sinilu Silverspell: **Well, if you insist…I liked your review….

**Dione Shadow:** I know I know it's evil-ness….but that just makes you even happier when the next chapter comes out, am I right? You ever made a cliffie?

**draco8448: **I totally loved your review! Thanks for saying it was well-written, that made me  happy… and you're safe, 'cause I probably won't make another cliffie, at least for a while…

**Bloody Corsets:** Uh-oh…I didn't know I could get taken off for that…oh, I see how I spelled his knife one way, and then the other… I write these on Word so I don't lose them, and I think it changed it for me; I meant to put "Askalade", 'cause I made it up…thanks for pointing that out. Erm…what should I do about those lyrics? Tell me in your review?

**bloodyXsilverXrose: **Your review made me smile!

**rockndramaqueen: **Thanks! That makes me so giddy! Your review was one of my favorites!

**A/N: **Awesome! I got positive feedback on this story…I left for Kentucky the day after posting that last chapter…so sue me! I started writing the next chapter as soon as I updated last time! I'm dedicated, so…just enjoy. Don't you LOVE me for giving you a cliffie?

**Disclaimer: **I own nada. Nothing. Blah.

"_M-Malfoy?"_

Draco POV

I looked at up at him, my heart pounding.

"Potter! Wh-wha-what ARE YOU DOING IN HERE!" I shouted with all the strength left in me.

Since I used my minimal energy on screaming at Potter for intruding, I was left utterly fatigued. I noticed that I was hungry as my knees buckled, and I crashed to the ground.

Har—_grr_—**Potter's** shocked face came running over to me, and he picked me up so I wasn't laying spread-eagled on the floor, and was sitting upright. A tear leaked out of my eye; I was thinking of how sweet my mom used to seem. She always would help me up when I fell…

He sat behind me, his chest a few inches from my back, and was supporting me with his arms, which he propped up against the wall.

"What happened?" Harry asked, his voice, surprisingly, filled with utmost concern. I was sure, however, that he was more curious than distressed; this _was_ Potter, after all. We had had too many arguments for me to believe that he could possibly **care**.

I debated over whether telling him was the right decision. I mean, he HAD seen me cry a bit, maybe if I told him he wouldn't think I was some sort of wuss, because maybe, _maybe_ he would understand…

On the other hand, maybe he didn't think I was a wuss. He hadn't said anything, after all. And if I told him, he might then think I was a wuss for putting up with it, and he would know something about me that not even my "friends" knew! Of course, what's the point of telling them anything, but still! And this was Harry Potter! No way he could understand what…what happened.

But what if he hadn't said I was a wuss only because he was afraid I would go into some sort of crying rampage?

"Malfoy?" Harry repeated. Oh. I had zoned out.

"Erm…" I said shakily.

My urge to tell someone about my…issues…was threatening to overpower me. But I remembered my dream catcher, and I at least knew I wouldn't have to deal with them in my dreams, so why should I tell Potter if these memories weren't going to disturb me?

Thinking of my dream catcher, I said, "I'm not telling **_you _**what happened, Potter. You're lucky I don't turn you in for barging into my room like this!" wincing at the pain it caused my body to have to muster up all this emotion. (**A/N: **I wonder how many people thought he would just immediately give in to him…)

In response, (_don't say Harry, don't think Harry, he's your enemy, use his last name…don't say Harry…_)Potter (_score!_) grabbed a damp towel off the sink and proceeded to place it over my eyes. It felt good, and I thought vaguely about just falling asleep right then and there…

I sighed, in what I hoped was in an inaudible way, and leaned back slightly, not really wanting to touch Potter (thinking of that…er…_thing_ that happened in the closet) but I was thoroughly exhausted, and leaned back a little too far.

Harry (_grr, I just can't help myself-**glum expression**-_) tensed up slightly, then leaned himself back into the wall of the bathtub, relaxing slightly. Behind me, I could feel him run his hand through his chaotic hair, and when he sighed exasperatedly, I shivered as his hot breath traveled over my vulnerable neck.

"You know I have every right to be here, don't you, Malfoy?" Harry said tiredly, as though this really was not his cup of tea. I thought angrily, "_Like it's MY cup of tea either!"_

"And why's that?" I asked, not knowing what to expect. I pulled off my towel and glanced at his face to see his expression. It was indifferent.

"'Cause we have detention with McGonagall, remember?" Harry replied, and I could see him looking at my face as I stared determinedly at the floor under the sink, trying to see what effect this had on me.

Oh hell. Bloody hell! What was I going to do? If I went down there, she would see all of the bruises! If I didn't go down there, either Potter would tell her what he saw, or she would come and check up on me!

"Oh…please don't tell her!" I said desperately.

"Hmm…sure, I'll cover for you. But…what's in it for me?" Harry asked slyly.

I turned around and stared at him. _What's in it for him?_ What! "Not getting your ass kicked!" I hissed, my blood pressure rising.

"Oh ri-ight. It seems to me that you're not really in any position to beat the shit out of me." Harry said, eyeing my cuts and bruises.

"Just please don't! What do you want? Why are you being so difficult?" I asked.

"I have asked you the same questions for the last five years, Draco, but you never answered, Mr. Prissy-face." Harry said, then looked away. _No wonder. That was a really lame name to come up with._

I stared at him once again, and he must have sensed this, for he pushed me away from him, much to my dislike, and stood up.

"Whatever, _Malfoy_. I'll make up some lie, but I'm not going soft." Harry said as he strode out of the room. As he left, I muttered, "Sure. Covering for your number 2 enemy when you could turn him in and make him the laughingstock of the school isn't going soft," though I was thankful he was not going to say anything. I heard him slam the door to the dormitory, and his footsteps died away.

I sat there for an hour at the least, tending to my wounds so that when I placed the charm on them to make them invisible the spell would not go haywire. It usually did that when the thing I was covering up was still bleeding.

I looked at the mini-grandfather clock—10:58. I sighed and pulled myself off the floor. I put my ear to the door, and heard loud voices. They were somehow distant, so I figured that there were still people in the Common Room, and nobody would interrogate me if I went outside.

I opened the door and it creaked; I paused for a moment, to see if anyone heard. No one did.

I walked over to my bed. After pulling the drawings around my four-poster and getting a drink, I crawled in. For a while, I stared at my dream catcher. I watched as it moved with the wind coming in from the open window.

Harry POV

Why was I so angry? Draco was just being Draco! But, he hadn't really done anything…Jeez, I was just feeling…angry.

I ignored the Slytherin students as I stormed out of the room.

I sulked all the way down to Professor McGonagall's room.

"Where's Mr. Malfoy?" was the first thing she said.

"He…couldn't come. I'll just do our detention and he can make it up later, okay?" I asked, still wondering why I had decided to cover for him after all the torment he had put me through. This could have been the perfect opportunity to get back at him. But I couldn't help but feel that I was happy to cover for him, down under my grudge.

I walked past her and picked up a book called The Wondrous Field of Magical Plumbing.

"Hmph. Five points off Slytherin for failing to attend an assigned detention. No, Mr. Potter, this detention was assigned to both of you, so I'm afraid we're going to have to wait 'till Mr. Malfoy decides to go to his detention," she said sternly, as if I was just itching to get started mucking out toilets. "Poor Filch…" she muttered as she ushered me out of the room.

I fumed all the way back to the Gryffindor Tower. I didn't even know why I was so furious, and that just incensed me more.

I was about to give the Fat Lady the password ("bejangles"), when Hagrid came up to me.

Draco POV

I don't know exactly when, but I fell asleep. I woke up feeling restless. I looked over at the dream catcher and saw that it was glowing brightly.

_Phew_, I thought happily. _The dream catcher is a success! _I pulled back the curtains and peered at the clock. 7:15.

"Fuck!" I whispered. I looked around me, and saw that all of my roommates were still sleeping.

We were missing breakfast!

I shoved and pinched and shook all of my dorm-mates awake, saying "7:15! Breakfast! We're gonna miss class!" to each of them.

I received angry grunts from each of them. Then Jake Baum, a 5th year, said to me "To-to-today iiiiiis Sat-turday" through his yawn.

I smiled sheepishly at them. Most of them went fell back on their beds with a "_plop_". A few of them, like Blaise and I, just went down to breakfast.

Fall was upon the school, and when I looked out an open window, I was rewarded with bitter, cold air, and a face-full of misplaced leaves.

"Hey Drake. DRACO!" Blaise shouted.

"Yeah?" I asked tiredly. "Maybe I should have just gone back to bed…" I murmured as he beckoned me forward. He grabbed me by the elbow and started pulling me down the hall that led to the Gryffindor Tower.

"Oh no, Drake, you're not gonna wanna miss this!" Blaise said excitedly, an evil grin plastered on his face.

We turned the corner, and there, sitting with his knees up to his chest, his head leaning against the wall, was Harry Potter. Asleep. In the middle of a corridor.

Blaise gave in to a fit of giggles, but I just gaped, my eyes flicking between the laughing Blaise to the oblivious Harry.

Blaise stopped laughing, and for his sake, I chuckled. He clapped me on the shoulder, and turned around.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"The Great Hall, duh. Come on!" he replied.

"I'll be there in a few. Hold on." I responded.

"'kay. Whatever." Blaise said back.

As soon as I was sure Blaise was in the Great Hall, I rushed over to Harry.

I crouched next to him and shook him roughly. He jerked awake, and looked wildly around for what had aroused him, when his eyes fell on me.

Panic flashed over his vivid green eyes, then confusion. "Wha?" he asked.

"That sounded stupid," I retorted. "You were just sleeping in the middle of this hallway, by the way."

He looked around at his surroundings, and understanding washed over him. He nodded, then got up, ruffled his hair, and walked away, leaving me squatting on the floor.

"Hey, wait! _Wait_, POTTER!" I barked at him.

He turned around and walked to me a bit, but said nothing.

"Well?" I said. "Well, aren't you going to tell me what happened? Why you were just sleeping in the corridor, not your room?"

"Why should I?" he asked tiredly.

This was probably about last night. I didn't tell HIM why, so he won't tell ME why….

"Come on Potter, why not?" I said, walking closer to him.

"You'll probably find out about it anyway." Harry said, backing away from me slightly.

"Oh," I said, walking up to him so that our chests were almost touching. "Then—," I said into his ear, "—why not just tell me now?" not really aware of what I was doing, but wrapping one hand around his waist and hooked one hand around his neck.

"Hmm?" Harry asked distractedly.

"Hmm…" I murmured soothingly as I pushed him against the wall and played with the back of his neck, staring into those beautiful universes that he calls eyes.

He sighed, and I registered just exactly what I was doing. However, I didn't stop. In fact, I was just about to lean in and plant kisses all along his neck, when he started speaking.

"F-fine," he said as I did indeed plant a kiss on his tender neck. I backed away slightly, but did not let go of him, not even afraid that anyone would see this scene.

_------Flashback-----_

_Harry had been right in front of the entrance to his Common Room, when a very distressed Hagrid called to him._

"'_ey 'arry! 'arry! I got ter take yeh ter Dumbledore's office!" he bellowed._

_A confused Harry obliged, and they started walking down the halls._

"_Why am I going there, Hagrid?" Harry asked, wondering what he had done wrong now._

_Hagrid told him._

**_-----Flashback INSIDE a flashback-----_**

**_Hagrid had been in Snape's office (seeing if he could get a potion for Fang, who had a bit of a cold) when Dumbledore strode in, looking flustered._**

"_**Hello Hagrid, Severus." Dumbledore said, nodding at each of them. **_

"_**Professor Snape, I request that you go to Harry Potter's room and bring him to me—I must speak with him…."Dumbledore said, his usually twinkling eyes dulled with sadness.**_

"_**Sorry, Albus, but I'm rather busy at the moment—," he indicated Hagrid, "—concocting a potion for his…dog." Snape said sneeringly.**_

"_**All right then. Rubeus?" Dumbledore said, turning to Hagrid.**_

"_**Sure, Professor!" Hagrid said, eager to help.**_

_**-----end of flashback inside flashback------**_

"_I don' think 'e's got good news fer yeh, 'arry," said Hagrid sadly._

"_Yeah, I know. Otherwise he wouldn't have to tell me it in the middle of the night," Harry said back, sort of zoned out, dreading the inevitably bad news. He felt as though this hypochondriac rain-cloud was following him around._

_We got Dumbledore's office, Hargrid said the password ("Zonko's") and the gargoyles sprang to life. Hagrid left Harry to see Dumbledore by himself, but not before wishing him good luck._

_When Harry got into his office, Fawkes greeted him with a hoot. _

_Dumbledore offered Harry some tea, and though he thought it was peculiar that he was offering him tea when he obviously had bad news, he took it in the hopes that it had caffeine._

"_Well, Harry, I'm not going to make small talk. I'll get right to the point. Oh, there I go, going around the bush, like I said I—," Dumbledore said._

"_Umm, Professor, you—," Harry began._

"_Oh yes, Harry. Of course. Well, it's Tonks. She's been taken hostage by Voldemort."_

_Harry promptly spit out the sip of tea he had taken. "WHAT? HOW?" he yelled._

"_She was out on a mission to try to convince a Death Eater who was reluctant to return to Voldemort to turn to our side just like Professor Snape. She wanted him to not be afraid of turning away from Voldemort. Unfortunately, there were other Death Eaters who spotted both of them. The Death Eater Tonks met with was killed right in front of her, and she is now a captive," Dumbledore said solemnly._

"_Can we get her back?" Harry said urgently._

"_Maybe Harry. But Voldemort set a ransom of the Ministry of Magic's submission to him, and we cannot afford that. Tonks is a great person, but she knew what she was getting into when she entered the Order, and we knew that many people were going to be lost before this war is over."_

_Harry stood up from his seat in Dumbledore's office, placed his still-full cup of tea on the desk, and said, "I have to go."_

"_Right," Dumbledore replied._

_Harry hopped down the stairs three at a time, and set off toward the Tower at a run._

_As he passed the Great Hall, he slowed himself to a walk. He remembered just how tired he was, and as he rounded a corner, he sat down for a moment. He shut his eyes and shuddered as his scar gave a particularly violent throb._

"_Tonks..." he muttered. He fell into a trouble-filled sleep, in which he was falling, falling, falling, and he kept hearing this high-pitched, cold laughter. Flashes of Cedric dying, and Sirius falling through the veil, and Wormtail cutting off his hand were surrounding him, until he was roughly awoken._

_-----End Flashback---_

"Harry, I—," I started.

He cut me off by placing a finger over my lips. I looked up at him, and saw that his eyes were filled with tears. I guess he had been pretty close to "Tonks".

I leaned my head into the crook of his neck and he entangled himself with me and cried on my shoulder.

I had of course heard the phrase: "Lend a shoulder to cry on" but never before had actually been the shoulder to which someone was crying on.

I skipped breakfast that day.

**A/N READ THIS!**: Well, I'm leaving for camp on June 27, and I won't be coming back for another three weeks, so I'm really really sorry!

**And since I started this fanfic BEFORE the 6th book came out, don't flame me about stuff that couldn't have happened, or what doesn't make sense according to the 6th book. I'll try to make stuff work with it, but it IS a fanfiction, after all.**


	7. Missing Meals

**Bloody Corsets:** I'm not too worried about the lyrics, I guess. Thanks for the "Pre HBP" summary tip. I did it. The whole Tonks thing? Just read and see…

**draco8448: **See, it's reviews like yours that make me smile and want to write!

**Lone Wolf55: **Thanks for the comment!

**Lexy: **And another superb review! What a splendid compliment…

**Dione Shadow: **lol

**Sever13: **Yeah, thanks. I wonder what people will think of the end…

**Disclaimer: **Do you really think I'd be writing fanfiction if I owned the Harry Potter characters? In short, I don't own anything.

**A/N: **I hope that saying "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" worked with this story! In case anyone cared, I had a great time at camp. Now, after 3 weeks (and then some) of waiting for a chapter, I bet you are just itching to read, eh? Well, have at it!

* * *

**At the end of last chapter 'cause it's been like forever: **

_He cut me off by placing a finger over my lips. I looked up at him, and saw that his eyes were filled with tears. I guess he had been pretty close to "Tonks"._

_I leaned my head into the crook of his neck and he entangled himself with me and cried on my shoulder._

_I had of course heard the phrase: "Lend a shoulder to cry on" but never before had actually been the shoulder to which someone was crying on._

_I skipped breakfast that day_

During what time would have been breakfast, Harry and Draco sat together in a comfortable silence.

Draco still had his arms around Harry when they heard footsteps coming their way.

"Ahh!" Draco said, desperately quiet and broke away from Harry. People were coming back to their dorms to relax during their actually free free-time before classes began. The hallway was in a "T"-shape. Draco and Harry were on the top left part of the intersection, which led to the Gryffindor Common Room and dorms. The people were approaching from the big base of the T-hallway. He could either dash across to the opposite side of the upper T and be seen coming out of where the Gryffindors (Harry especially) were, be seen coming down the large hallway leading to the Great Hall from the same direction, or remain unseen by scrambling into Harry's common room. (**A/N: **Oh I know, how annoying. I kept repeating the same thing over and over again to get my point across…T, T, T, ahh!)

Draco chose the latter. Harry and he sprinted the rest of the hallway towards the portrait of the Fat Lady, and sprang inside when the portrait opened after Harry hastily whispered the password. Sounded remotely like "Fizzing Whizbee".

They ran up the stairs, Harry in the lead, and Draco barely had time to register the cozy, warm feeling of the Common Room before he was in what was presumably Harry's dorm room.

"Get under. There's enough room!" Harry said impatiently, pointing underneath the bed.

Draco looked at him skeptically, raising an eyebrow, before crawling under the bed.

It was oddly spacious. Above him, Draco could hear the bed creak and feel Harry jump on the bed, possibly pretending to reading a book, or pretending to sleep as a cover for not going to breakfast.

Draco could see people's feet and hear voices casually asking where Harry had been and heard mumbles of "slept late". He heard many people enter, leave, come back in, and the sort of thing that goes along with getting comfortable.

It was sure to be a few minutes until he could come out from his hiding spot, so he looked around. There were a couple boxes, empty suitcases, and that sort of thing. Not very interesting. However, one box stood out.

Its lid was askew and something inside of it shone with the little light there was under the bed. Intrigued, Draco wriggled (there wasn't **that** much room in there) over to it. He placed his hand inside and pulled out the shiny thing.

In the dim light he saw a shape that looked like a—a knife? He felt its edge and noticed two things.

One, there was something engraved onto one side. It was impossible to tell what it was in the darkness.

Two, there was something dried on it that could be picked and peeled off. Curious, Draco sniffed the blade, thinking how ridiculous this looked, and inhaled something remotely like copper…remotely like…blood.

Draco raised his head slowly, trying to imagine Harry using this on a classmate. No, it wouldn't be possible! He's a bloody Gryffindor!

'_Well then why is there dried blood on it? Huh? **Huh**__'_ Draco thought. _'I don't know…he couldn't…do what I do…I mean, Harry?'_

He wasn't sure what to think, but was trying to persuade himself that Harry cutting himself was a laughable idea.

After everyone who was staying in the room was settled, he heard movement above him, and a silk cloak dropped in front of him. It had a note stuck on it that said, "Put it on your whole body—head and all— and come out."

Draco tucked the knife back into its box, and put on the piece of clothing and squirmed out from under the bed. Harry was looking expectantly at where Draco was standing, but didn't seem to notice that he was standing right there.

"Harry?" Draco said, wondering what Harry was up to.

"Oh good, you're there." Harry said, and added, "By the way, you're wearing that invisibility cloak I scared with a few years back."

"You didn't scare me…" Draco muttered indignantly.

"Well, come on. I'm getting you out of here unseen, but I'll want my cloak back so I'm coming with you. 'Kay?" Harry said.

"Sure," the invisible body of Draco Malfoy said.

They got out of the common room without a hitch. Once outside, Harry demanded, "My cloak, please."

Unconsciously wanting to spend more time with Harry, Draco responded, "Hold on a minute! Just wait 'till we get a bit further along so that they don't see me standing right in the middle of the bloody Gryffindor Tower!"

"Fine, fine." Harry replied. They walked in silence, and Draco was trying to remember where he had heard "Tonks" before. He finally remembered his mom saying how much of a disgusting blood traitor she was, while his father lectured him on the importance of pure-bloods being in control. But hey, whoever his parents hated, Draco likes. _And don't forget that Harry likes her, too, _a part of him said. _Sssh…_ Draco told that part of his mind. They walked on aimlessly for a while, 'till Draco decided he wanted to see Harry's reaction to what he had to say.

"I'm related to Tonks, Harry." Draco said tentatively. He was ashamedly curious as to whether Harry would start crying at her mention.

Instead, he knowingly said, "I know." This was true, because Sirius had shown him the family tree in Grimmauld Place.

"Oh, okay." Draco said, slightly relieved.

"Tonks and ex-Professor Lupin were in love." Harry blurted out. While they were on the subject of Tonks, he was bursting to say something about it.

"Huh?" Draco said idiotically.

"Whenever they were around each other, they positively ogled at each other. I caught them holding hands a lot, and once or twice, when they thought they were alone, I saw them kissing." Harry said.

"Okay…why are you telling me this?"

"I don't know…I'm just thinking about it…and about how Remus—er, Lupin, is going to feel once he hears what happened to her, if he hasn't heard already. He was already feeling tired and depressed and, and just all-around fatigued; you could see it in his eyes. Then, when I saw him when he was with Tonks—he was a different person. He was so happy. His eyes lit up around her; I hope he's okay." Harry said, partially forgetting who it was exactly he was talking to.

"Here's your cloak." Draco said abruptly, ripping off the cloak and shoving it into Harry's arms. He walked off; he could not believe how Harry had just confided in him. It left him with a strange feeling of pride, and he didn't know how to deal with it, so he ventured off to his room to think.

**Draco POV**

As I walked down the familiar path that led to my room, I regretted being so harsh to Harry. _He probably thinks I hate him or something_.

I was so confused; _why did I care so much about whether Harry hated me or not? Why did even want him NOT to hate me? Why am I even calling him Harry? _I contemplated the impossible answers on my way up to safe haven.

I reached my bed, pulled the curtains shut behind me, and locked myself inside.

Drakstile was in her familiar spot inside my tidy drawers. I caressed her sharp edge, and felt that there was only one way to relax myself. Only one way to forget all the questions that invaded my mind, that confused me.

She was like a drug as she tore through my skin and my confusion. I was so addicted.

But…I wanted to stop. Then again I didn't. This boggled my mind more, so I made a new cut to stop my mind from perplexing me further. I watched as the blood running from the fresh cut on my arm traveled over old scars.

All of those scars told a separate tale. They all had their own reason for existing; all of those stories being unpleasant ones. Ones of desperate calls for help; of anger; of confusion.

I put Drakstile away almost reluctantly, and fell asleep watching my arm bleed, not even bothering to unlock myself.

I never knew that in a different tower, someone similar to me was doing the exact same thing.

**Harry POV**

I lay in bed, thinking over the past few hours.

It started with Draco. We had been been talking about how Remus and Tonks were together—or rather, I had been. Then, suddenly, he shoved my cloak at me and power-walked away…

Immediately I wondered what the hell I had done wrong. Unfortunately, once I was in my room, I was overcome by a wave of depression.

I had pondered long and hard about why Voldemort took Tonks; I wondered how I could have ever been so stupid as to trust Kreacher that night at the Ministry; and my new wonder: Why was I becoming so mysteriously infatuated with Draco Malfoy?

I had brooded over all the things Draco had ever done to me: petty fights, calling one of my best friends a mudblood, laughing at my friends, hexing them and myself, trying to outdo me in Quidditch, trying to get me expelled….The list went on.

But even as I lie here, still thinking about how much Draco Malfoy deserved to rot in hell, I know that I will just forget about how many wrong things he had done to me when I come near him. He just…lights me up, as strange as it sounds.

The only thing that was able to calm me was Askalade, and her rose-engraved blade. Like, if I was I was stranded in the middle of a raging storm on a miserable sea, she was my lifeboat. She made me become unfocused; caused me to forget my troubles. I was indebted to a knife. Okay…

But…I wanted to stop. I wanted to be able to deal with my stress on my own. I wanted to not have to constantly be hiding my arms and be under a charm as another precaution. Even as my lifeboat, it was like at times she was a shark in disguise, slowly killing me from the inside out.

I didn't want to have to have caution. I just wanted to relax, and flail my arms carelessly, not worrying that someone would see my scars.

I almost wanted someone to find out, because then I would feel that I _had_ to quit, to please this person.

But there was no one to tell. My friends…I could never bear to tell them, and I make sure that no one found out.

After abusing myself, I had put Askalade back in her sacred drawer, hoping for some sleep.

_But, _I thought dismally, _here you are, not sleeping, just mulling over unhappy things. Impressive.

* * *

_

The next few weeks were a living nightmare for Harry; he had always worried that now that Ron and Hermione were going out, that if they broke up, it would mean the end of their "inseparable friendship".

Ron and Hermione were having a huge row, and it had started whenever Hermione mentioned Victor Krum while Harry and Ron were talking about Quidditch.

She had said, "Did you see the Bulgarians face off the French on Saturday? I heard about it on the Wizard radio, and did you know that Victor made up a great move, where he—"

At that point, Ron had interrupted her, asking the unforgivable: "Did you ever snog Krum?"

Harry knew what would happen before it did. But since he couldn't stop it…

And, of course, Hermione reacted as Harry knew she would.

"Ron! How can you ask me that? First of all, _yes_," –Ron's face showed shock and anger—"but secondly, how can you ask **me** that, when you probably dream at night about snogging Fleur?"

She had gone on about how it infuriated her that he was obsessed with Fleur and whenever he was around her he acted like a total git and forgot about her, his girlfriend.

There was a pause, and Ron was probably about to say something like, "I'm sorry," but then Hermione interrupted again, saying, "You have ME right now, and you know SHE'S not interested in you. But if you keep swooning over her, you're not going to have EITHER ONE OF US!" By the end, she had been yelling at him, and they had had the attention of everyone in the common room.

Ron decided staring at her was a good idea, though Harry knew better.

"AHH!" Hermione shrieked, completely losing her cool, dropping her books and standing up to wag an accusing finger at him.

"You don't even defend yourself against that? That's as good—or bad—as admitting it, you piece of rotten scum!"

Ron stood up too, and had said, "Hey!" but it was to empty air—Hermione had stormed up the girls' stairs, and he couldn't get to her there.

Ron had grumbled and growled as he had picked up his belongings and brought them up to his room. He still had the attention of some of the people in the common room when he came back down, so he mumbled something about going to the kitchens, apparently having lost interest in talking about Quidditch.

* * *

Sure enough, things were definitely looking bad for the Trio.

Ron was failing his History of Magic class with Professor Binns without Hermione's notes. Harry was trying to keep the peace and still received notes from Hermione, but deciding that he wouldn't put it past her in this anger to jinx the notes so that if he let Ron copy them he would get a face of pimples reading 'Traitor', he had to ignore Ron's pleading.

Harry had not forgotten about Tonks, and it was probably bothering Dumbledore and McGonagall, whom he kept asking for news about her, to keep telling him that when they had news of her, they would tell him immediately.

Harry had mentioned Tonks' capture to Ron and Hermione, but they were too busy with either lust or anger for each other to care a whole lot.

* * *

Draco's days were not going too super either, and his ego was taking a beating every time his father came to visit him.

He knew that every time his father said that he was a disgust to his family and that disowning him was a great idea, he should be happy. But no matter how much he hated his father and vaguely felt satisfaction at his father's bigheaded wrath, he still had the mad desire to please his father.

He felt like a failure more and more every day. Though his Potions grade was still perfect, Draco knew it was only because of his relations to Snape, for he had not successfully filled a flask with the correct potion for weeks.

Unluckily, he was not so close to any of the other teachers, and after not having been able to even transfigure a pack of quills into a bird and received extra homework from Professor McGonagall, he felt like doing something drastic and crazy to make himself feel better.

It was after that very class that he walked into Harry Potter, who was presumably going to ask Professor McGonagall something before heading to the dorms for free time and then lunch.

It was then he had an idea for what to do that was crazy, drastic, and would _certainly_ make him feel better.

"Well, hello Harry…" Draco said in as seductive a voice as he could muster at the moment.

"Oh, that's swell. You're talking to me." Harry said, without a trace of anything close to seductive. Almost coldly.

"Huh? Oh, that!" Draco replied, partly forgetting that he had ditched Harry after Harry had told him all about Lupin and Tonks. "Sorry about that, I just remembered that I had this huge History of Magic essay to do," he lied, not having anything better to say.

Harry eyed him suspiciously, then said, "Professor Binns didn't assign us any homework."

_Damn. Stupid Potter remembering everything the stupid teachers do. _"Well, I'm a bit behind on my work, so I asked him to let me do an extra essay to boost my marks."

Harry shrugged, though it was severely obvious he did not believe Draco. "What is it?" Harry asked.

"Well, I was going to—" _Well, I was going to ask if you would like to accompany me to the Room of Requirement and shag me senseless, but…_

But…Pansy Parkinson interrupted. "Drakey! Oh, my god, I was looking all over for you!" 'Seventh floor' she mouthed. _Hmm_, Draco thought, _I'm not the only ones who has plans…_

She strode over to him and hooked onto his arm. She raised an eyebrow at Harry, who found it contagious. He raised his eyebrow at Draco, turned on his heel and walked off.

He wanted very much to tell Pansy to shove off, but he was still so aroused by the thought of having Harry, that he conceded to her lusting and followed her up the staircases, past a wall three times, into the room, and onto the bed.

* * *

"It's going to be a long day after this…" Draco mumbled, staring at Pansy's sleeping, naked form, which had acted like a leech and attached itself to his chest. "I'll never live it down."

He had hardly been provoked to come by Pansy. He had pretended that he was with Harry half the time. The rest of the time was just plain animal, perverted instinct.

He was mystified. He had long come to accept homosexuality—his especially. But no matter what his body told him, he could not get his mind around the fact that he wanted Harry Potter.

Later that day, the very evil, sensual being that consumed Draco's mind was sitting a few feet away from him, oblivious to the naughty things Draco imagined himself doing to him.

However, Harry had the same sort of thing going on his own mind. He had been thrilled when Draco had approached him that morning. He had been feeling dreadfully troubled by Draco deserting him before, and was more than happy to see him.

His giddiness had not lasted through the free time before lunch as he worked on Potions homework, wondering what sorts of things Pansy was doing to Draco—who he was starting to think of as his own—and the reasons why **he** should be doing them. That's why, when he saw Draco walking towards the lake by himself, he said goodbye to his friends instantly and rushed outside.

Before he reached the lake, he told himself to slow down, and act cool. What was he so worked up for? Just going out for a stroll in the sun, is all.

He sat pointedly straight across from Draco, who was sitting next to the very boulder that they had once had a conversation by.

He had some questions for Draco, but how could he ask them? They were all about whether he was gay, whether he planned to join Voldemort, etc. But that was like asking him to show Harry his boxers.

Come to think of it, asking Draco to show Harry his boxers sounded a whole lot more fun than asking _serious_ questions.

You know that feeling you get when you know someone is looking at you? Harry looked up to find Draco staring at him, like a mother goose watches over her goslings.

"You got any Beans?" Draco asked. He crawled over to Harry and outstretched his hand, a mischievous smile on his face.

"As random as that question is, yes, I do!" Harry replied, his miserable mood about Pansy vanishing. He reached into the back pocket of his robes, where he was keeping a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans that Ron had snagged from the kitchens.

"It's not random! Remember last time?" Draco said as he watched Harry pour flavored beans into his extended hand.

"I do..." Harry said, smiling fondly at the memory.

"Yup. So, Quidditch this year..." Draco started.

Quidditchhad been a sort of side-show thing this year for Draco and even for Harry, what with the N.E.W.T.S. steadily approaching. However, Harry had begun to regain interest in the sport as the year progressed.

"Yeah, I've been kind of out of it, but I dunno, maybe..." Harry trailed off.

"But anyway, did you see the look on McGonagall's face when Crabbe made that stuffed animal turn into a bird and it took a dump on her head?" Draco said, trying again at conversation.

"Yeah, that was priceless!" Harry shouted in high spirits.

With Harry's positive response, Draco felt comfortable making a friendly chat with him while eating junk food. It was great to have someone to talk to. Though they disagreed on many things, they had just enough in common to get along.

That day, Draco didn't eat lunch that day either.

* * *

**A/N: **THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! There's chapter 7. and please, in your reviews, tell me what you want to happen; give me ideas! 


	8. Yes, I'm depressed

**A/N: **I absolutely wanted to murder myself for taking so long to update. It's not that I was toooooooo busy, but I realized something: this is an "angsty" story, but all of a sudden, I've taken a freakish road. I'm wearing black, but my head is filled with bubbles and butterflies and pink and happiness. _Bubbles_, for G-d's sake:twitch: So this story might take a turn for the better (for Draco and Harry). Since I haven't updated in like ever, I suggest you re-read the last chapter or so. Even I am going to... :cries:

**Disclaimer:** Just that. A disclaimer. I claim nothing. I own nothing.

* * *

**Harry POV**

We spent that time out by the lake joking about school stuff, filling ourselves with sugary beans, and often disagreeing with each other and spending minutes in silence before Draco would extend his pale hand, asking for a bean—while at the same time, silently asking for a truce.

It was one of the most pleasant times of my week. I had never known Draco to be so pleasant, even with his own house—for that matter, I was surprised _any _Malfoy could be so amusing. The way we talked, and sat in close proximity, but not too close, it was the same sort of timid flirting I had done with Cho a few years ago. It was exhilarating.

In the back of my mind, I couldn't forget how Hermione and Ron were still at each other's throats, and how the NEWTS were looking quite intimidating. But I let Draco's chatter drift through my brain and those thoughts miraculously got pushed back to the less noticeable depths of my mind, to be thought about later.

3rd Person 

"No, no, really! Why don't we ever have food fights?" Harry mused cheerfully, while popping a bean into his mouth.

"It's because you bloody Gryffindors act too high and mighty and _perfect _to go around and have a _food fight_! So don't complain to ME 'cause you're bored!" Draco responded cheekily, simultaneously grabbing the last Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean.

"Didn't someone start a food fight a while ago? Like, last year or so? And wasn't it the _Ravenclaws_ who said 'stop it'?" Harry said, still in shock at the ease of talking to Draco.

"Yeah...David Markeez...he's a 5th or 6th year Slytherin—a real troublemaker. We look almost exactly alike, so _I_ served two weeks' detention with Filch because I couldn't persuade anyone that it was HIM that threw a glob of mashed potatoes at a first-year's head." Draco said sullenly.

"Wait, you said he looks just like you? And a real troublemaker?" Harry asked urgently, carelessly tossing the vacant bag to the ground.

"Yeah..." Draco replied, picking it up and raising an eyebrow before placing it by Harry's bag. **(A/N: he's such an environmentalist)**

"Hmm...was he at all violent?" Harry asked, his green eyes twinkling with anticipation.

"As a matter of fact yes. He even tried giving ME a black eye." Draco chuckled fondly at the memory, "He ended up with one hell of a bloodied-up face."

"So you're saying...do you mean... whenever Hermione was beaten up by the Slytherin with white-blonde hair...it really _wasn't_ you?" Harry asked. He felt that even after all of the other stuff that Draco did, if he hadn't really physically hurt Hermione, there _could _be something like a relationship in this for Draco and him, and he wouldn't feel as guilty.

"You thick-headed git! Of course it wasn't me!" Draco said, shoving Harry roughly, but not really standing up.

Harry smiled sheepishly at him, but then his grin turned into a very sly, flirtatious sort of simper. He shifted closer to Draco, who did not move back.

"What are you so happy about?" Draco inquired quietly, almost in a whisper, not wanting to break the sort of "wandless" magic being created.

"Oh, it's just you look..." Harry started, "ravishing," he finished enticingly, then planted his warm lips onto Draco's.

Draco reacted immediately, pulling Harry towards him then behind a nearby rock; just in case someone happened to glance out his or her window.

They held each other close while their tongues entwined. Each of them had wanted this so badly that they could not suppress the mutual moan that escaped their lips.

All good things must come to and end, and so did this satisfying kiss. Only this time, there was no oddness afterwards.

Draco stared into Harry's famous green eyes—Lily's eyes, he knew—and knew why every girl could not stop raving about them. He felt as though he could just fall into them. He wasn't sure whether it was creepy, cute, or romantic.

Draco's marvelous storm cloud gray eyes, in turn, entranced Harry. Even when they had that glazed look of lust and desire in them, they had this fierce, defiant quality about them that kept Harry's attention focused on them.

"Hey Harry-" Draco began.

"Yes?" Harry replied.

"I get off on your eyes." Draco girded.

Harry barely had time to say "thanks" before Draco gave in to the temptation of kissing him again.

Harry pushed Draco up against the boulder they were hiding behind, but after stopping the kiss merely fiddled with his robes. Draco held on to him.

"Well," Draco declared, lightly pushing Harry off him, "time to go."

"Yup, I guess so. And Draco?" Harry mumbled.

"Mm?" Draco said as they both started to jog back to the castle.

"You're gonna have to confide in me one day. Tell me what happened." Harry gushed, as he ran ahead into the building, leaving a slower Draco Malfoy to brood on this statement.

Draco POV 

_Confide in him? Tell him what happened? What does he mean? ...about the time in the bathroom, when he found me? When we were supposed to be in detention? _I said to myself pensively while I mindlessly copied notes from Professor Binns' blackboard.

_This is the last class of the day, thank God._ Harry had said that to me when? Lunch? I can't get it off my mind. I wrote down what the professor assigned for homework, then raced out of the room. I was eager to get back to my room, to see if I could gather anyone to walk with the kitchens to grab some food. Spending time with Harry, while most enjoyable, was proving to be more than my stomach could take. Bits of junk food really weren't going to fill my stomach.

He's probably hungry, too. Knowing those old Weasley accomplices of his, he'll probably know how to get into the kitchen as well. I pondered, as my legs ushered me up the stairs. 

"Damn!" I shouted, as the staircase detached itself from the Slytherin Hallway and lowered itself to the third floor.

I got off on the floor, not knowing when the next staircase-shifting would be, and attempted to find my way around.

Never having to sneak around the school, I was almost completely ignorant in the many secret passageways and shortcuts—other than the secret of how to get to the kitchens, which was almost common knowledge, so for an entire hour I meandered through the halls, getting lost numerous times and not really knowing where I was heading.

I finally found my way back to the sanctuary of the Slytherin Common Room. I sighed heavily, thoroughly exhausted.

Pansy positively shrieked when I sat down on the closest free chair, and was on top of me in a heartbeat, her lanky arms draped around my stiff neck.

"Oooh Drakey, where _were_ you all day! I barely saw you in class, and...and...you just ignored me!" I could see she was next to tears, and it made me uncomfortable, confused, and mostly annoyed._ Why is she so EMOTIONAL! One shag, one day...I barely pay attention to her anyway. _**(A/N: hey that rhymed!)**

I shrugged and looked away, and just let her sit on me. My arms remained on the armrests, unresponsive to her being on my lap, so she made them wrap around her waist and tried to snuggle up to me.

"Hey Pansy, I'm pretty hungry. How about we try to go out and find some food early, before dinner?" I used as an excuse. She took it entirely wrong.

She grinned playfully, "Why of course! It'll be a date! We'll be all alone in the Great Hall, eating chocolate cake with cherries and ice cream and...Okay, I'm going to get ready and I'll be right back!" She said excitedly, pecking my cheek, and running off to her room. Jumping off of me proved to show me that she didn't know to get off of someone without crushing their rib cages.

Once she was out of earshot, I shook my fists at the sky and grumbled incoherently. Blaise slunk over to me and asked, "Why do you let her do that? Why don't you just say 'Hey Pansy, you're a right-out slut, I hate everything about you, so just let someone else finger you.'?"

"It's not that easy. And she's so dependent. I feel sorry for her." I revealed. "Plus, she's a good distraction." I added with a weak smile and a wink.

Pansy flew down the staircase in a completely different outfit and I took a calming breath before extending my hand. Blaise shrugged and went back to copying someone's Transfiguration essay.

The kitchens were, as always, filled with the most obedient house elves, though Dobby refused to be in the same room as me. Too bad—I almost felt bad for the way my father treated him. But at the same time, I wanted to wretch, seeing so many house elves. It reminded me of the first time with my mother...

I had told Pansy to wait outside, saying it would be less romantic if she had to come in with me.

I didn't want to have to carry anything out, or spend too much time with the house elves, so I just ordered them to deliver some desserts to the Slytherin Table and—for good measure—finished with "if it's not too much trouble". Which I knew it wouldn't be.

The meal itself wasn't horrible. Pansy was too preoccupied with food and gabbing to touch me, and I myself devoured the food. The house elves had given my "lady friend" and I countless hors devours, an entire carrot cake, Bertie's Every Flavor Ice Cream, (I was not exactly sure how it worked), and lots of other goodies. Yes, it was a good meal.

As soon as we finished, I told her that we needed to get done with our homework. This was school, after all. She whined and such, but eventually she accepted it.

That evening, during the actual dinner, I received a letter and a scroll from the business that had delivered the dream catcher to me. I stashed a bunch of peanuts in my pocket and went up to my room to read the note.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_I presume that the dream catcher you ordered has been working perfectly. It is designed to discover the brain waves that are causing your nightmares; single them out, extract the actual nightmare, and store it in the mini-pensieve that conveniently resembles a bead. So you sleep well, no? If not, please return this letter explaining what defects have occurred._

_My secretary recently told me that Package #307, that would be yours, did not come in with the full set of directions. These directions tell you how you can view the dreams that are stored in the bead-like cavity._

_We here at the company are sorry for the misunderstanding, and beg your pardon. Thank you for your time._

_Sincerely,_

Benjamin Pallaton President 

I re-folded the letter. Very unusual for the owner of a shady business to give out his name in something that could possibly be intercepted.

However, I was in no mood to be paranoid. I had had no idea that the dream catcher would be able to _replay_ those dreams. I didn't want it to. Not at all.

What if one of my roommates started teasing me about having a dream catcher, like it was something immature, then investigated it and discovered all of those wretched things.

I grabbed the second scroll, the one with the instructions. I was tempted to just shred it, burn the pieces and put the ash into the lake, but I decided against it.

You don't always need instructions to make something work. Any number of genius students could figure it out...

_And perhaps there's a way to shut off that function, _I thought hopefully.

"Ba-da-bum-bum...ba-da-bum-bum..." I hummed the tune to my cousin Lyra Malfoy's song "Ask Grandma Maggie". She had made it when she was sixteen, and it was popular. But she was dead. My father's drunken hand combined with a hammer made sure of that.

However, I liked the tune and I had been very fond of her, so I mumbled it as I skimmed through the complicated scroll, looking for headlines that would instruct me on how to rid my dream catcher of the ability to reveal my secrets.

"You know I hate that song." Came the cold voice of the notorious Lucius Malfoy. I turned around.

I resented not doing my original plan—to burn the papers—and so shoved the scroll under my desk, as my dad chuckled humorlessly, closing his eyes and taking out his torture-fashioned belt. Whip, really. What's the difference?

"You've been a very naughty boy, son. Very bad deeds. Tsk Tsk..." Lucius mocked me. He brought the belt down with the strength he accumulated from running heinous acts for Voldemort.

I tried not to scream; I really did. But he just kept getting stronger every time I saw him...or I kept getting weaker...

I looked down at my right arm where he had thrashed me, and was distressed to see my favorite shirt had a graze the size of a walnut. I was to find out that if that single nick bothered me, I was going to be utterly depressed later on.

And so, for an entire half-hour, I watched my father pull back, whip, pull back, whip, pull back...and watched myself bleed, bleed, and bleed, ceaselessly.

He stopped, thank god, he stopped. This time, he put his head back and gave a belly laugh. Full of humor. I was seething.

He exited the room, still sniggering, and I wondered briefly how he managed to get in and out of here. But when the shock wore off and my sliced skin reached its full pain potential, I gave a small moan and set off towards the bathroom, to fix myself up.

Yes, I was depressed. I didn't bother to even bring Drakstile; why cut yourself when you're already bloodied up. It ruins the calming effect, really.

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**A/N: **Okay, I SWEAR I won't take as long to update! I sort of have the next chapter in mind...Okay, I don't _swear_, but I'll really try! _Please_ review, it makes me feel good. And sorry I didn't reply to the reviews in this one, it's just been so long...too rushed to get this up to go through them. 


	9. Pallaton's Aid

**A/N:** Okay, my next three chapters are going to be short, but for the sole purpose of dragging out this story. They're going to come close together though, because I have a vague idea of what I want to put in them. But even if I didn't want to drag out the story, because of these TWO measly reviews, you'd get a short chapter anyway. Thanks a bunch to the people who reviewed.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Thanks J.K. Rowling.

**Malefacent:** Yay, my precious ((Gollum))...well in the next chapter I'm going to tell you how that pissy Lucius gets in! ;-) be patient...

**BakuMarik Fan:** Oooh, your review just makes me squeal with happiness! Kudos!

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**Harry POV**

Next morning:

_Well I suppose that went well. I've always wanted to end a conversation with something that made the other person totally flustered,_ I thought.

I was bored to tears with the lesson I was in, Transfiguration, after my electrifying chat with Draco. I couldn't stop thinking about it. But I dutifully took notes, with the intention of giving them to Ron, who had almost cried when someone mentioned the NEWTS.

_I suppose he can help me get back into Quidditch, _I thought dazedly as I traced the diagram of the newer and more complicated version of "swish and flick" that Professor Flitwick had yet to teach us.

"Alright class, I think just perfecting the new motions will be enough of a chore, so have a pleasant day," Professor McGonagall intoned.

I got up from my chair, putting the diagram of the new movement on top of my books so I could study it as I went to my next class.

"Ah, wait, Mr. Potter." McGonagall said with a slightly malevolent smile.

I shuffled back to her expectantly. "Yes?"

"You remember just a bit ago Mr. Malfoy and you missed a detention?" she said slowly, as if I really didn't remember.

"Yes...oh." I replied. I sighed, then continued, "What are we going to be doing?"

Her smile returned, and I was reminded of Umbridge when she had a dreadfully wretched rule to instate. "You're going to be cleaning the bathrooms you were told to clean the previous time."

I gaped at her. "But...have people been using them? Were they cleaned out by someone else?"

"No, no one else has cleaned them. You have to do what you were originally told to do, in addition to scouring out what the people that have used it since then left behind."

My jaw dropped. "But...eew!"

"And I hope you learn your lesson!" she said sternly, walking back to her respective desk to organize homework assignments that they had recently turned in.

I groaned, not ready to accept the atrocious job. "What did Malfoy say when you told him?"

"That's partly why I haven't told you to get out of my room yet." She waved her hand around the classroom, "He didn't come in today. I'm sure everyone realized how peaceful the class was. So I need you to get him at around 8 o' clock, and bring him down here. The password today is "sangre"; it will be changed tomorrow, so don't get any ideas. Oh, and tell him to bring yesterday's homework with him along with an explanation for his absence."

"Um, fine." I walked out of the room to my next class, Potions, to find the hallways completely deserted. Perfect. I'd be late.

The bell rang, as I knew it would, and I sulked into the room, accepting the dock of five Gryffindor Points. The potion assigned to us was incredibly simple—I was sure we had done it in our fifth year at least. Why was he reviewing? Why now, when we need every bit of new potion knowledge we could get?

Hermione too seemed disturbed by this lesson repeat. After several minutes, she finished the potion. She gave Gryffindor a well-needed amount of fifteen points for being the first to remember the potion and turn it in, though Snape looked wistfully around to see if anyone from his own House had finished. She was so restless, combined with her constant anxiety over her relationship and the necessity of knowing every potion available for her NEWTS that she started to chew on her nails. Finally she couldn't take it anymore.

She timidly raised her hand. Snape ignored it. She raised it higher. Still he looked over it. She became bold with her fury over his injustice, and in the silence, started snapping her fingers in the air. No way he could just pretend everyone had not stopped his or her work to stare at Hermione.

Snape sighed, then glared at Hermione, "What _is_ it, Ms. Granger?"

She huffed for a few moments, before answering, "I want to know why you're having us go over this quite simple potion, when we are about to have our NEWTS; when we need every scrap of _new _information we can get! Why? As a teacher, what right do you have to deprive us of—"

Snape held up a hand. "The reason we are not doing the complicated potion as I had originally planned, is that we are missing a student."

Hermione looked annoyed and slumped in her seat. I sat forward in mine, and said, "The only person missing is a Slytherin. If it were a Gryffindor missing on a day you had planned to do something complicated, you would not have even had to think about saving it. And just let that person fall behind!" By the end, I was yelling.

"Potter...shut up. And a point off Gryffindor. Back to studying." He drawled. I grumbled and mumbled in protest, but to protect the few remaining House Points, I vowed to stay quiet the rest of the class. I did.

In fact, all of my classes were quiet. I didn't fight with anyone, or talk, or joke, and I did my work. I felt inexplicably bored, somehow, but at the same time I was totally ready to just do my work and sit there.

And Draco was not in any of them. I had no idea what he was doing but...I was worried. He didn't even show up for Lunch. I myself could not bring myself to eat anything, my mind drifting back towards the impending terror of my assigned detention. I headed to the library to check out some recently acquired Quidditch books. The newest information and techniques could definitely improve my chances of being made the Seeker again. On my way to the library, I passed the bathroom I would, at the end of the day, be partner-scrubbing with Draco. Even from across the hall, the boys' bathroom truly reeked of old feces and urine. It was disturbing that no one had done anything about it yet. Even for a detention, this was extreme. But I held my breath and rushed past the room.

I wasn't even sure why I felt the burning desire to be part of my House's team spirit again, but something that had died within me was unsettled in its coffin now.

I spent my free hour reading _The Latest Quidditch Trends_. I felt sufficient in Quidditch once again, not afraid to ask Ron for assistance, and somehow the bathroom did not stink as much the second time. I tried not to gape as I saw a teary-eyed and embarrassed first year scuttling out of the room. Poor thing probably couldn't hold it in. I shivered with disgust at the mere thought of having to use that toilet, then sobered myself with the thought that I'd be spending quite a bit more time washing the room.

In any case, the day ended with only an hour or two's worth of homework. More often than not, the homework could end up taking up to five hours or more. Days, sometimes.

At seven-thirty, I decided I couldn't put it off any longer. In an attempt to get back my Quidditch physique, I did not simply stroll to the Slytherin Chamber, I jogged, stopping occasionally to catch my breath or do some jumping-jacks.

I stopped in front of the entrance, trying to regain my composure, and hoping I was not sweating too much or too noticeably. How embarrassing, walking in on Draco sweaty and telling him we had to scrub filthy toilets only the evilest being in Hell would dare describe the smell of. (**A/N: **hey, I described it:Guess that makes you an evil being in Hell:)

Taking a deep breath, I growled "sangre" and slithered into the room. Ignoring the stares, whispers, threats, and people who stood up with their wands in hand, I held my chin up and walked leisurely into the room which I remembered to be Draco's. "Hey!" the shout came from across the room from a black girl with eyes like fire. "Don't go in there. He's been snapping at us all day. You goin' to get yourself hexed into oblivion."

Wondering if there were Slytherins with hearts, I replied, "Thanks. But I'm here on business." And finished my ascent into Draco's room.

I fumbled with the door, muttering "alohomora" and barging inside. I shouted Expelliarmus before he got up from his lethargic mood and sleepy position on his bed. His wand flew to the other side of the room. I smiled happily.

"Up and at 'em. Time for detention-y with McGonagall-y, wittle baby." I said, nearing him and pulling at his cheeks in a most annoying fashion.

That got him up—he smacked he hard against the head. "Are you serious? Detention? What do we have to do? Shit, I have to get dressed." And indeed he did. He was still in his black silk pajamas emblazoned with a heart with a triangle in it on the shoulder of the shirt and the bottom of the pants.

He scowled, then said, "Stay..." and was off to the bathroom with some clothes and a comb.

I took this grand opportunity to snoop around his room. I found a dresser by his bed that differed enough from the bureaus of the other boy's that I could tell it was brought from home. I found a miniature desk on the other side of his bed, a beautiful mahogany base with a satin finish. His bed was, though not made, complete with a set of matching Slytherin bed sheets, comforter, and pillowcases.

Most of his side of the room was neat, with a few things strewn on the hardwood floor. However, I noticed underneath his desk a large scroll of the finest quality paper I'd ever seen. I had had no idea that good-quality _paper_ existed. It was all trees to me.

Intrigued, but glancing cautiously at the bathroom, where under the door I could see through the gap, that Draco was moving around rapidly, I pulled the parchment from its crumpled position in the shadows of the niche of the desk.

I flattened it out and looked at the first page. The title was _Pallaton's Aid_. The first sentence on the page read, "For five hundred years, the Pallaton family has been the source of better sleep, a better day, and a better life."

Forgetting my worry that Draco would catch me prying around his room, because I was too curious what Draco had purchased, I skimmed the first two pages, which were simply an introduction, promoting Pallaton, and Contacts.

The first useful page explained the many artifacts that the Pallaton family had created, and stated their brief summary. The second interesting page proved much more informative.

It was entitled _Dream Catcher_. That answered my initial question, what had Draco bought. But this brought on a whole new onslaught of questions—why did Draco need one? The summary said "to lock up bad memories that haunt your dreams". What sort of memories did Draco have? How long has he had one? Who got it for him? And so on.

I also wondered where his dream catcher was residing. This device looked tremendously useful and expensive, so it was highly doubtful that he had simply tucked it away.

Quickly looking in the corners of the four-poster, bed, desk, etc. I discovered the elegant dream catcher was hidden in a crevice of the curtain of the four-poster. Not very well hidden, but I didn't think it was likely that anyone was looking for it.

I hurried back to the scroll, wondering how this could possibly take up so many pages.

I turned to the next page, and it read at the top _Retrieving Dreams_. This definitely looked like it was the sort of complicated thing that could take up ten pages. I moved my eyes along the page and read, "Though the use of this dream catcher is essentially to remove horrendous things from your subconscious mind, at some point it may be crucial or wanted to retrieve these dreams. To do so, follow the instructions on the next..."

I would have kept reading, except that Draco shouted from the bathroom, "No, I'm not taking a shit!" I shoved the paper into my robes and sat innocently on his bed as he walked out. "But my hair had to be beautiful..." and he winked coyly at me.

"You have to get your Transfiguration homework from last night." He nodded and walked over to his desk, pulling out an essay on some more of that fancy paper. I was afraid that he would notice that the scroll from Pallaton's was missing. Luck had it, he didn't even glance down.

He gestured for me to follow, and after putting on his most insolent face, walked into his Common Room. Walking next to him, I saw him glare at several people. I wasn't sure he was angry, or even hated them; I think he just glared at them for sport.

We sulked out of the room, and all of a sudden Draco had a cheery disposition. "So, what's our detention?"

I couldn't bear to burst his bubble, and I think Professor McGonagall deserved to see the terrified look on Draco's face when he learned their fate, so I just chuckled and said, "You'll see."

He appeared satisfied with that answer, but became silent. It was not an unpleasant quiet, but I had to ask, "Why weren't you in class today?"

So much for not bursting his bubble. His face contorted slightly in anger and fear, and with his freakishly characteristic smirk, he said, "I didn't feel like going."

My thoughts went back to the dream catcher, wondering what sorts of things were magically stored inside. And also wondering if one of the things that was destined to be locked inside the eerie chamber had happened earlier that day.

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**A/N:** Don't get angry with me if the schedule has changed a bunch in the last chapters...I made an actual schedule for Harry and Draco now, so no worries! I have such issues giving you guys cliffies. Splendid, aren't I? Review, and feed my ego! 


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